


The Face of All the World

by staringatthesky



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:10:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 128,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatthesky/pseuds/staringatthesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A head full of dreams, an eye for the beautiful, and a wistful hope for adventure. That was Esme Platt. A husband, a baby, and a dark night on a cliff later the dreams are gone, beauty has turned monstrous and the adventure seems over before is even begun. But the world has other plans for Esme Platt, and a doctor with golden eyes and the face of an archangel will change everything</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Climbing Trees (1911)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N – I thought it was about time I gave Esme, the only one of the Cullen women that I haven’t written about, a chance to tell her story. She’s one of the really underrated characters in the Twilight universe- too often reduced to just ‘the mom’ there’s a lot more to her than that. After all, imagine taking on the saviour-like perfection of Carlisle Cullen and the family he created!  
> Admittedly there’s not a lot in canon to go on in regards to Esme, so I’ve taken a pretty free hand with characterisation. So far I love her though, and I hope you all do too! I’m taking what’s in the Guide as the basis for this story, which I think is going to run from Esme first meeting Carlisle when she was sixteen to possibly Emmett joining the family in 1935 (I think? No promises.)   
> I’m not as far ahead writing this as I usually like to be when I start posting stories so chapters will go up a bit less frequently than they did with Hothouse Flowers, but I’ll try. Mostly I really hope you like it!

_ Sonnets from the Portuguese 7: The Face _

_BY[ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/elizabeth-barrett-browning)_

_The face of all the world is changed, I think,_

_Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul_

_Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole_

_Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink_

_Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,_

_Was caught up into love, and taught the whole_

_Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole_

_God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink,_

_And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear._

_The names of country, heaven, are changed away_

_For where thou art or shalt be, there or here;_

_And this ... this lute and song ... loved yesterday,_

_(The singing angels know) are only dear,_

_Because thy name moves right in what they say._

 

 

**_  
_**

“Esme! Esme Anne Platt!”

My mother’s irritated voice jolted me from my reading. I’d been so engrossed in my book that I was almost disoriented as I looked up and blinked, letting the real world take the place of the fantasy I had been dwelling in for the past hour. It was only then that the unmistakeable smell of scorching bread registered with me, and with a groan of dismay I left my book on the porch swing and hurried around to the kitchen door.

“Just look at this!” Mother raged at me as she withdrew the smoking pans of bread from the oven and pushed past me to set them down on the porch. “Honestly Esme! The bread is ruined!”

“I’m sorry?” I offered feebly, but my mother was far too angry to be mollified by my apology.

“What were you doing? You’re sixteen years old, I should be able to leave you at home for the afternoon and trust you to remember to take the bread out of the oven!” Mother had her hands on her hips and was glaring at me.

I bit my lip and scuffed my feet awkwardly. Really, I _had_ no defence. Mother had gone to her monthly women’s meeting and had left me with strict instructions about taking the bread out when it was done and putting the meat and vegetables in to roast…something else I’d failed to do, I realised dismally.

“You’ve not done the meat either, have you?” Mother snapped, and I shook my head.

“I’m sorry. I was reading and…”

“That’s not an excuse!” Mother stamped into the kitchen and pulled the beef out of the roasting pan. “Peel the potatoes now then, and slice them thinly. Your father will be back soon and we’ve no time left for roasting. I’ll have to cut this and fry it.”

Feeling guilty I gathered the potatoes and began peeling them. Unfortunately in my haste I slipped with the knife, and couldn’t stop my exclamation of pain as the blade sliced into my thumb. Seeing the blood, Mother snatched up a dish towel and quickly wrapped my hand in it. I braced myself for another telling off, but this time Mother just shook her head and sighed.

“Oh Esme…what are we going to do with you?”

“I _am_ sorry about the dinner, Mother,” I said eagerly. “I truly meant to do it, I just got caught up in my book and didn’t realise how much time had passed.”

“I know.” Mother opened the dishtowel and peered at my wound, then wrapped it tightly back. “Sit down and keep this on for a minute. It’s not as bad as it looked, but it’s still bleeding.” She turned back to the meat, slicing expertly, and then took over the half peeled pile of potatoes. “I know you didn’t neglect your chores on purpose Esme, but you _must_ start being more responsible! You’re not a little girl anymore, and you simply have to get your head out of the clouds!”

I sighed. Mother wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t heard a thousand times before. _Stop daydreaming, Esme! Pay attention, Esme! Stop wasting your time with all that drawing and reading and do something useful, Esme!_ And I wasn’t wilfully disobedient, but it was so hard!

Reality was my family’s mid-sized farm here in Ohio and the expectations that I was going to be well behaved and demure and learn how to run a household and manage a family. And there was nothing _wrong_ with that…but there was a whole big wide world beyond the gate, and I longed to be able to explore it. I loved my family and I’d had a wonderful childhood growing up here on the farm, but I wanted my life to be bigger than just this. There were so many places I wanted to go and wonderful things I wanted to see, and so many adventures that I dreamed of having. I couldn’t help but wish my parents understood my desires, rather than always trying to hold me back and mould me into the perfect daughter.

I sat quietly while Mother rapidly peeled the potatoes and then tossed the potatoes and meat into the frypan. Taking up the first aid kit she kept in the pantry she came over and bandaged the wound on my thumb, which had now slowed to a mere trickle of bleeding. “I need you to run over to Melanie’s and ask if she can spare some bread,” she instructed me. “At least enough for your father to have with dinner. I’ll put on some loaves for tomorrow after dinner.”

“I’ll help you,” I promised. I knew baking more bread would take hours, and Mother had been up since dawn. “I’ll pay attention this time.”

Mother smiled and kissed my forehead. “I’ll believe _that_ when I see it,” she said tartly, but I knew she wasn’t really cross with me. “Now hurry over to Melanie’s.”

I hurried out of the kitchen and jumped off the porch, heading through the orchard and over the east field to the tiny weatherboard home that our hired man, Amos, and his wife Melanie lived in. Amos was still out in the fields somewhere, but Melanie was in the kitchen, the rich smell of stew hanging over everything as she prepared dinner.

“Esme!” she exclaimed when she saw me in the doorway. “What are you doing here so close to dinner time? Don’t tell me you’ve finished Phantom already!”

“Almost,” I admitted. The Phantom of the Opera, the book that I had been so engrossed in that afternoon, had been borrowed from Melanie. Her sister lived in Columbus and sent her a package of newly published books every few months and Melanie was more than happy to share. “Actually, it’s partly because of that book that I’m here!”

“What have you done?” Melanie asked me, continuing to briskly prepare the dinner for Amos and herself.

“I got caught up reading and I forgot to take the bread out of the oven,” I confessed sheepishly. “It’s burned black and quite inedible, so Mother sent me over to ask…”

“If I can spare some? Certainly.” Melanie whisked to the pantry and came back with the end of a loaf of bread. “I haven’t much left, I was going to do my baking tomorrow…”

“That doesn’t matter,” I said hastily. “Just a few slices for Father really…thank you,” I added in heartfelt tones as Melanie gave me a napkin covered plate. “You’ve saved my life.”

Melanie laughed. “No need to be that dramatic Esme.” She smiled at me affectionately. “Although I’m sure your mother was very angry- you must stop getting caught up in the books like this! Reading is a pleasure, but you have to attend to your chores too.”

“I know,” I said, backing out of Melanie’s kitchen with a wave. “You’re quite right of course, and I _do_ try, but the story was so fascinating and…”

“Go!” Melanie scolded. “You’ll be in more trouble if you’re not back with that bread sharpish! Come over on Tuesday and help me with the wash and you can talk to me all you like of Christine and her Phantom!”

With a laugh I turned on my heel and fled back to my house. My father was back home, washing his hands in the kitchen sink, and I passed the bread across to Mother and then went and gave him a hug.

“Hello Father!”

“Hello Esme.” Father kissed my forehead and then sat down at the table, waiting to be served. I hurried over to carry the plates.

For a little while there was little conversation as we all ate, but then my father slowed down and began telling us about his day. I only half paid attention until he said, “I spoke with your school teacher when I was in town today, Esme.”

I glanced up sharply, feeling the butterflies in my stomach. I knew what the conversation had likely been about…but how had Father reacted?

“He was talking about some of the students sitting for the entrance exam to the state university,” Father said slowly. “He thinks you’re bright, and thought you might want to be one of them.”

I took a deep breath and looked at him steadily. “I would like to.”

Father frowned but said nothing.

“Esme!” Mother sounded surprised. “You’d really want to go and live away just to continue your schooling? I know you’ve always been a clever girl, but we’ve never thought about college!”

“I’ve been thinking on it since Mr Sanderson first broached the subject at school,” I said quietly. “I would like to go and learn to be a teacher…it’s a respectable job and it can be a good opportunity for a girl to earn her own money and take care of herself.”

“But that’s not necessary for you!” Mother protested. “You’ll live here at home with me and your father until you get married, and then you’ll have your husband to take care of you. Of course some girls need to work, but you’re not one of them.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “Why would you want to be worried about earning your own living?”

“But if I don’t get married…” I tried.

“Of course you’ll get married!” Mother exclaimed. “You mustn’t worry about that! You’re very pretty, and you’re a clever, sweet girl. You’re also our only child and there are no other heirs for the farm, so you’ll be quite a catch when you’re old enough. Indeed Esme, I _really_ don’t think you need be concerned about finding a husband.” My mother sat back in her seat with a satisfied smile. Obviously, she thought the whole situation was over and done with.

“But…” My voice trailed off. It wasn’t exactly that I didn’t _want_ to get married. I hadn’t thought a lot about it, but when I’d considered it I’d always thought that I might quite like to be married and have a child one day…but not _now._ Not before I’d had a chance to _do_ something all for myself! “I love going to school,” I said softly, looking over at my father. “I know I could do well.”

“It’s a long way from home,” Father said.

I gripped my hands together. “Melanie’s sister lives quite near the college and she’s sure I’d be able to board with her,” I said quickly. “She’s a widow and takes in students to bring in a little bit of money. She has children, and I could help pay my way by babysitting too. I’d work so hard, and I’d make you proud of me. I’d be a good teacher.”

“It’s not that I think you wouldn’t work hard and do well,” my father said to me gently. “But you’re a girl Esme, and you’re going to grow up and get married. That’s what you need to be thinking about, not about going to college and filling your head with lessons.”

Tears prickled at my eyes. “Some of the other girls are going to study and sit the exam. Please, won’t you just think about it?”

“There’s no need to think about it,” Father said kindly. “It’s not what we want for you Esme. You’re a girl and you don’t need an education to make your own living. You need to work on being ladylike and learning what you need to know to run a house, and maybe a farm and family one day.”

He didn’t say any of this maliciously. He just didn’t know how much I wanted to go to college, how long I’d been cherishing the dream of becoming a teacher and having some autonomy, and how crushing his casual dismissal of my desires was.

I stared down at my plate, struggling not to cry as Mother said, “Your father is quite right Esme. Higher education isn’t what girls need and you mustn’t think about it anymore. I know you’re in a hurry to grow up now, but it won’t be long before you’re an adult and all these ideas about teaching and college will be forgotten. You’ll be far too busy with other things!”

“May I be excused?” I mumbled.   

My father nodded and I took my plate and scraped the leftovers into the chicken’s bucket before placing it by the sink. Then, forgetting all about helping Mother with the bread, I took my favourite book and ran to the orchard, feeling the tears spill down my cheeks. I had been so excited at the idea of going to college! I had expected a little resistance from my parents, because it wasn’t close to home and it was probably quite expensive, but I had been so hopeful that I’d be able to talk them round. The immediate denial had crushed me.

In the orchard I held the hem of my dress in my mouth to keep the long skirt out of the way, and swung up onto the first branch of my favourite tree. It was awkward juggling the heavy book and keeping my balance as I scrambled through the branches, and I cursed the long dress as it caught on a sharp twig and I had to stop and untangle myself before it tore. This had been so much easier when I was child and could just tuck my skirts into my knickers to climb! But I safely reached my favourite spot, a strong branch with a dip that was just the right size for me to settle into, and a thinner branch behind it that conveniently allowed me to lean back against it while I held the large book on my lap.

I didn’t begin reading immediately. The tears were still blurring my vision and I rubbed at my eyes irritably, thinking that running away to hide in trees and cry wasn’t really going persuade my parents that I was grown up enough to take care of myself in the city. Maybe I could talk to them again tomorrow, or even ask Mr Sanderson to discuss it with them again? I was sure Melanie would talk to them if I asked her, and that might reassure them about where I wanted to live. Her sister had been taking in boarders since her husband died three years ago, and they were all respectable girls from good families who never gave a speck of trouble. _Maybe_ some of this might reach my parents and they would at least consider the idea!

With a sigh I leaned back against the branch and opened my book, feeling myself relax as I looked at the familiar pictures. This book was my most precious possession, even though it was actually written in a foreign language and I couldn’t read a word of it. But it was filled with intricately beautiful drawings of buildings and cathedrals, pictures that fired my imagination and made me long to go and see those places for myself. I had copied many of the pictures into my own sketchbook too. My early efforts had been nothing short of embarrassing, but through practise I learned many of the rules of scale and dimension and perspective. I sometimes tried to design something similar of my own, although I had no idea if what I drew would be structurally able to be built. 

I leafed through the pages, looking at all my favourites. I thought it was funny the way I could always find something new in the pictures, or be struck afresh with an idea for how something could be altered. I was mentally designing a new stained glass window for a particular church when I shifted my weight and then heard a loud crack and felt myself falling as the branch at my back gave way without warning.


	2. Falling

It felt like it was happening in slow motion, as I fell backwards through the branches, my hands instinctively clutching my book to my chest.. My head struck painfully against the trunk and I was thrown forward, screaming as my leg was caught in a fork and my own bodyweight dragged against it. For a moment I was caught hanging upside down, my leg feeling almost like it wasn’t part of me, before one of the branches it was caught it snapped off too and released me, so that with one final scream I came crashing back to earth

The pain hit me like a sledgehammer. I twisted around, clawing at the ground, desperate to get away from it, but the agony only seemed to burn hotter and more intense.

“ _Mama!”_ I screamed. _“Daddy!”_

I saw them coming, standing on the porch and shading their eyes until they saw me lying on the ground under the tree, and then they both ran. My father first, but even my mother ran unsteadily across the yard, holding her long skirt out of the way, her mouth opened wide with fear.

“Esme!” Father knelt at my side, taking my small hands in his big ones, holding them tight inside his like he used to do when I was a little girl.

“I fell,” I said, dazedly. “My leg…”

Father pulled my dress out of the way, and at the sight of my leg his face went white and he said a word I’d never heard him use before. When his hand touched my leg I half rose up, unable to even form a scream for the pain that flashed through my body.

Sitting up I could see my leg, bent at a sickening angle that no leg could ever have naturally, and I felt the world begin to tilt alarmingly. I moaned and lay my head down, but blackness was rolling in from the edge of my vision, my sight narrowing to a pinpoint before it disappeared and I sank into merciful unconsciousness.

It didn’t last long enough. All too soon I came round, whimpering as the pain made itself felt as a fierce throbbing in my leg, opening my eyes and finding my mother and Melanie bent anxiously over me. Mother wiped my face with a damp cloth, and Melanie smiled.

“You have made a mess of yourself, Esme!” Melanie said with forced cheerfulness. “What are we to do with you?”

“I’m sorry,” I said in a tiny voice.

“Oh darling, never mind,” Mother said soothingly. “Daddy and Amos are just getting the cart and we’ll take you to hospital. The doctor will be able to fix you right up!”

I tried to hold back my sobbing. The way my leg hurt I half expected the doctor to decide amputation was the only solution. I gripped my book even tighter, concentrating on the way the hard edges of the covers dug into my hands in an effort to distract myself from my leg. It worked, briefly, but when Father and Amos returned with a door from the house and slid me onto it nothing could take away from the pain, no matter how much they tried to be gentle.

The ride to hospital was excruciating. Father had to balance the need to hurry with trying to make the ride as smooth as possible, and it wasn’t easy. I lost all track of time as I lay in the back of the cart, drifting in and out of consciousness, whimpering softly and biting down on my sleeve as I clutched my book. I tried to think of my favourite illustrations from it, but my brain seemed so thick and fuzzy I couldn’t seem to remember anything.

I don’t remember reaching the hospital. They must have carried me in, but the next thing I knew there was a voice like honey in my ear, and the most beautiful smell of freshly mown hay and clover in the sunshine seemed to be drifting by my nose.

“Esme? Esme…can you hear me?”

I forced myself to open my eyes, and suddenly everything in the world seemed to vanish because it was then that I first saw _him._

His eyes were large and wide-set and the most peculiar, delicious looking butterscotch colour. His fair hair fell across his forehead as he bent towards me, his red-lipped mouth curved in a gentle smile. After his eyes his skin was the strangest thing I noticed: extremely pale and oddly smooth and unblemished on his clean-shaven face. I blinked, a little confused, as I stared at this face that was more beautiful than any man I’d ever seen.

“Esme, I’m Dr Cullen,” he said, his voice rich and smooth. “I’m taking Dr Trask’s place here for a time. So let’s see what we can do for you.”

The nurse, who I hadn’t even noticed standing on my other side until now, pulled my dress up to my thighs. I looked down my body at the bent leg, noting how crooked it was without much interest. The pain was still throbbing intensely, but I now felt somewhat removed from it, and I didn’t even flinch as Dr Cullen carefully rolled down my stocking and ran cool hand along my skin.

“This looks like a bad break,” Dr Cullen said, but his voice was so calm I only nodded.

“I fell out of a tree,” I said. A wave of embarrassment washed over me as I said it- it was ridiculous enough that a big girl of sixteen would be climbing trees at all, but to then go and fall out of one was mortifying!

But Dr Cullen only crinkled his eyes in amusement as he gave me his beautiful smile, and I found myself smiling back at him, my embarrassment vanishing. “We’ll have you climbing again in no time,” he said to me, gently patting my hand. “What we’ll do is put you to sleep with some anaesthetic and then reset your leg and put it in a plaster cast. You’ll be laid up for some time, but I’m confident that it will heal well.”

I felt more tears welling up in my eyes and slipping silently down my cheeks. The last thing I wanted was to appear even more like a child in front of this lovely doctor, but my leg was hurting so fiercely and I couldn’t help but be afraid of what was coming up.

In a gesture that felt oddly intimate, Dr Cullen took a clean and folded handkerchief from his pocket and very gently wiped my cheeks, his amber eyes intent on mine. Finished, he pressed the handkerchief into my hand and my fingers closed around it automatically.

“Please don’t worry,” he said gently. “I’ll take good care of you.”

He vanished for a minute, coming back with a rubber mask. “I’m going to hold this over your face while you breathe in. It might not be very nice, but it will be very quick and then you’ll be asleep Esme, and nothing will hurt for a little while.”

Dr Cullen waited until I nodded, a little tearfully, and then he gently placed the mask over my nose and mouth. Instinctively my body rebelled at the gas invading it and my hands reached up and grabbed at Dr Cullen as he held the mask tight against my face, trying to push hands that felt as immovable as stone away from me. My last thought before the darkness claimed me was how very hard and cold his hands were as my fingers tightened around them.

* * *

 

“Esme? Esme…open your eyes…Esme?”

My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and my eyelids felt as heavy as lead as I forced them open. It was Dr Cullen standing at the side of the bed and talking to me in his honeyed voice, his cool hand holding my wrist while his eyes stayed on the heavy silver pocket watch in his other hand. His eyes flickered to mine, and then creased up into a smile when he saw I was awake.

“You’re back with us,” he said.

“Was I…?” I stopped, my head feeling so thick and fuzzy that I couldn’t even find words. “I feel sick.”

“It’s the anaesthetic,” Dr Cullen said; and like magic a silver dish appeared under my chin as I turned my head and vomited. “Nurse!” he called out, when I was done, handing the mess over to a white capped nurse who disappeared with it.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, so ashamed I couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“It’s the anaesthetic,” Dr Cullen repeated gently. “It makes most people feel nauseous. If we sit you up and give you some water you’ll feel better.”

The same nurse reappeared, a young woman with a friendly smile and a starched white uniform. “Hello Esme, I’m Sister Helen.”

The two of them sat me a little more upright, arranging pillows behind me so that I could recline. The world seemed to whirl around me, and I gave an involuntary moan and closed my eyes for a moment.

“You may still feel a little dizzy,” Dr Cullen said, seeming to know exactly what I was feeling. “Just rest against the pillows and breathe deeply and it will pass.”

I did as he suggested and felt better, then felt better still after I drank the water Sister Helen brought to me. I was still a little drowsy and felt vaguely as if I were floating, not quite connected to the body lying in the bed.

My leg didn’t seem to belong to me at all. Encased in a solid looking plaster cast it was resting in a hammock to keep it suspended, my toes peeking out the end. My other leg was covered with a blanket and I was wearing an unfamiliar nightgown instead of my clothes. I had a sudden horrifying thought that Dr Cullen might have seen me naked when they changed my clothes, and I sent up a quick prayer that it had only been the nurse.

“You certainly broke that leg,” Dr Cullen told me, taking the chart from the end of the bed and writing notes. “Both the tibia and the fibula were snapped clean through…those are the two bones in your lower leg, right here,” he added, tapping the cast. “Luckily it was a clean break so I was able to realign the bones relatively easily. Unfortunately you’ll be bedbound for the next three to four months, but I think it should heal well.”

Sister Helen straightened my blankets. “If you feel cold, let me know,” she said. “I can find you a bed jacket, or perhaps your mother will have one to bring in.”

I kept finding myself hypnotised by the doctor’s hands as he filled in my chart. My head ached. How could his skin be so smooth and clear and pale? His eyes were so strange…so beautiful, but so odd. I closed my eyes.

“I’ll just let her parents in for a moment,” Dr Cullen said in a low voice. “She needs rest, but they’ve been waiting and they’ll want to be reassured that she is as well as can be expected.”

A moment later I heard my mother’s high, anxious voice and my father’s gruff tones intermingled with the rich voice of Dr Cullen. I forced my weary eyelids open and tried to smile as Mother came and stood by my bed, wringing her hands.

“Oh darling, how are you?”

“Tired,” I whispered. “But it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.”

“I’m so glad. We were so frightened!” Mother kissed my forehead, and turned worshipful eyes on Dr Cullen. “Thank goodness we had such a good doctor to take care of you.”

I nodded weakly, and Mother smoothed back the untidy strands of my hair that had pulled out of the braids when I fell. She looked about as exhausted as I felt, and I realised that she and Father would have a long drive back to the farm. It had been early evening when I had fallen, and I wondered what time it was now.

“I’m sorry I’m so much trouble,” I said with a sigh, and much to my surprise Mother laughed.

“Oh Esme! Just concentrate on getting well now, that’s all your father and I want,” she said comfortingly. She looked around the hospital room and then back at me, looking thoughtful. “You’ll have to stay in hospital for a little while, although we’ll take you home as soon as we can. Father and I will go home now and I’ll be back for visiting hours tomorrow. I’ll bring you some of your own nightgowns and I have an old bedjacket you can wear, it might be chilly in here. I’ll bring in some of your books too, and ask Melanie for some extra ones. I’m sure she won’t mind lending them to you to keep your occupied.”

“Thank you,” I murmured. Sleep was creeping up on me inexorably, and I felt my eyes closing. I felt Mother’s lips soft on my forehead, and then the gentle pressure of Father’s hand holding mine for a moment before they were gone, and I surrendered to sleep.

* * *

 

I don’t know what time it was when I woke, but the curtains were still drawn and there was a low light burning on the bedside table. My mouth felt parched, and tears came to my eyes when I realised how helpless I was. I didn’t want to be a baby, but my leg was throbbing mercilessly and I was _so_ thirsty and I couldn’t do anything about either problem!

“Hello?” I croaked, hoping someone was nearby and could hear me. No one did, and then I noticed a little bell on the bedside table and gave it a hesitant ring.

Much to my surprise it was not the nurse who came, but Dr Cullen who appeared in my door on soundless feet, a quiet smile on his face.

“And what are you doing awake young lady?” he said, chiding me gently. “You need your sleep…is it pain in your leg that woke you?”

I nodded, adding diffidently, “I’m very thirsty too, if you could…or someone…”

“I think I can do something about both of those troubles,” Dr Cullen told me. “Wait here.”

Not really able to do otherwise, I stayed firmly in the bed as I waited. The skin at the edge of the cast itched, and I pulled up my nightgown and scratched at it tentatively.

“I can’t do anything much about the itching, I’m afraid.” Dr Cullen once again appeared soundlessly in the room, and I nearly jumped as I dropped the nightgown back into place.

He pretended not to notice, handing me a glass of water. His other hand held a syringe, the tip of the needle reflecting the light of the lamp as I looked at it fearfully, and tucked under his arm was a heavy book.

“Oh, my book!” I exclaimed, swallowing the water and beaming at him. “You found it for me!”

“I did. It was put aside when you came in…I thought you might want it.” He put it down on the bed beside me and then showed me the syringe. “This is morphine, which will help with the pain in your leg. I need to inject it into a muscle and your thigh will be the easiest site, if you don’t mind.”

I shook my head. Actually, I’d always hated injections and I _did_ mind, very much, but I’d never had a doctor speak to me with such kind understanding and I didn’t want to cause trouble for him. So I held still while he quickly lifted my nightgown and injected the drug into my thigh, and although I couldn’t help the high pitched yelp of pain as the needle pierced my skin, I did my best not to cry.

“Good girl,” Dr Cullen said, as he gently and quickly massaged my thigh to help the drug spread, before he pulled my blanket back up. “That wasn’t so bad?”

“Compared to breaking my leg it maybe wasn’t so bad,” I said. “But other than that…it wasn’t exactly very _good._ ”

Dr Cullen laughed, and once again I was struck by how extraordinarily beautiful he was. Even his laugh made me think of the way the golden sunshine danced as it reflected off the gentle waves of the lake. I blinked at him for a moment, finally pulling myself together enough to say, “I thought you would have gone home…don’t the nurses usually take care of the patients overnight?”

Dr Cullen shrugged a little, smiling as if something amused him. “I don’t need a great deal of sleep. We’ve been busy lately and I don’t mind taking the night shift now and again to relieve the nurses.”

I nodded. “Thank you for bringing me my book,” I said, a little shyly, touching the fraying linen cover. “It’s my favourite…I was reading it in the tree when the branch broke and I fell.”

“I wanted to ask you about it, actually,” Dr Cullen confessed. “I wouldn’t have expected…you can read Italian?”

“Oh…no.” I shook my head, feeling a little foolish. “I didn’t even know it was Italian! I thought it might be, but I wasn’t sure.”

Dr Cullen regarded me thoughtfully. “It’s a treatise on Mediterranean architecture and it’s written in Italian. How did you come across it?”

“I bought it at the church rummage sale. I think it belonged to the priest they had before Father Patrick; he was a foreigner and always getting books through the post office before he died. There were lots at the rummage sale, but no one could read them of course so they mostly went onto the bonfire. Mrs Carol let me buy this one, even though she said it would be worth lots more than I paid for it.” I explained.

For a moment I was afraid I was just rambling, but Dr Cullen looked honestly interested in what I had to say as he asked, “What made you want it?” He didn’t sound at all like he thought buying a book in a language you couldn’t read was something laughable.

“I like the drawings,” I said, opening the book and showing him one at random. “They’re so beautiful, these places…I like to imagine going there, and seeing them. I like to think about what it must be like to make something so big and strong and useful, but graceful too. Some of these buildings, they’re just beautiful for the sake of being beautiful, and I love that. There are plans too, for some beautiful palaces and cathedrals, and I’ve learned to make my own by copying them. See?” I turned the book so the page was facing him.

“I do see.” Dr Cullen was staring at the book and his finger reached out and traced the spire of a church. “I’ve been there.”

“Really?” I looked at him in astonishment. “You’ve been there? You know what it is?”

Dr Cullen nodded. “Yes. I spent some time in Italy…years ago now.” He smiled to himself. “I have some…friends, I suppose you’d call them, who live in Tuscany and who were happy to host me. I’ve seen several of these places.” He flipped through the pages, pointing to several of the drawings, reading the captions or footnotes that told what they were, translating effortlessly. “They’re beautiful Esme…you must try to imagine this cathedral, soaring above your head, the stone pale in the moonlight and the spire so graceful…” His voice faded, and I could tell by the faraway look in his eyes that he was there in his imagination.

“You’re so lucky!” I said enviously. “You’ve been there and seen so many things! I’ve never been anywhere…I can’t even read my book!”

Dr Cullen laughed, but it sounded friendly rather than mocking. “You’re much younger than I am, Esme. You have plenty of time for travelling if you’ve a passion for it.”

“Not _that_ much younger!” I said indignantly, and then blushed as I realised I was making personal comments.

But once again Dr Cullen didn’t seem to mind as he laughed. “I hope you’ll get to Italy one day, Esme. It’s a beautiful country, and if you appreciate fine architecture and art there is so much to see there.”

He was the first person I had ever met who hadn’t laughed at the idea of a farm girl from Ohio ever being able to travel or experience more of the world than I had right there at home. The only person who hadn’t thought I was nothing more than a silly girl with a head full of dreams for even being interested in things like architecture and faraway places. In fact, there in the dim hospital room Dr Cullen talked to me with a quiet seriousness, listening carefully to what I said as I hesitantly put my thoughts in to words

I began to feel the affect of the morphine Dr Cullen had injected. The pain faded and my thoughts began to feel blurred and difficult to grasp, my words slurring slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Dr Cullen said, looking up from the page of the book he’d been examining. “You’re tired and I’m keeping you from your rest.”

I shook my head. “I like to hear you talking about it,” I said, my eyes half closed and the drugs lowering my inhibitions so that I spoke freely. “I’ve wanted to read all the words for so long, and I couldn’t. And no one else I know is interested…it might be different if I were making plans for a barn, but a cathedral? Stained glass windows that could be a hundred feet tall? They just laugh.”

 “It’s good to have dreams,” Dr Cullen said quietly. “You never know what’s possible until you try.”

I yawned, my eyelids heavy. “Tell me some more,” I requested. “Just a little more, and then I’ll go to sleep, I promise.”

“Very well.” Dr Cullen took the book back, but he closed it gently and gazed off into the distance as he spoke, telling me tales of his travels as I slipped into sleep.

That was the first night I dreamed of him; a man with golden eyes and a voice like honey and a smile that shone like the sun. It wouldn’t be the last.


	3. Making a Friend

Dr Cullen wasn’t there in the morning. It was Sister Helen who came into my room and gave me more morphine and then breakfast, and helped me wash. I chafed against the indignity of having to have someone help me with private things, but with a heavy plaster case encasing my leg from my thigh to my toes I had little choice. Sister Helen chatted away to me in an effort to ease my embarrassment, which was kind of her, and she even made me laugh with some little jokes. At least the breakfast was good and I ate it with a hearty appetite.

Mother arrived mid-morning, bringing with her a basket of food from home and books for me, as well as a bundle of clothing and the scent of the farm. It made me unexpectedly homesick for a moment, and I hugged her tightly as she bent over to kiss me.

“Hello darling, how are you?” Mother peered closely at my face. “You look very pale. Did you sleep well? Does it hurt very much now?”

I shrugged. “It hurts, but they’ve been giving me pain killing injections to help.” I showed her the bruises on my thigh as she murmured in sympathy. “I slept okay.”

I didn’t tell her about Dr Cullen spending so much time talking with me. I didn’t think she would like it that I spent time alone with a man while I was in bed in my nightie! But it was a hospital and he was a doctor, and I had liked him so much. I didn’t want to risk her forbidding something that was completely innocent. I knew that she often questioned my judgement, but I was as sure as I’d ever been that the beautiful doctor was a good man who meant no harm.

Mother lifted her packages up onto the chair beside my bed. “I’ve bought you some clothes,” she began, quickly bundling them in the cupboard by the door. “Some nightgowns and under things and a cardigan to keep you warm. I’ve bought in some of Father’s socks for you, I thought they might be big enough to stretch over the plaster and keep your toes warm.”

She draped the pink knitted cardigan over my shoulders, and I obligingly slid my arms into the sleeves, wincing as even that slight movement jarred my leg. I wished the nurse would appear with another syringe full of painkilling drugs, and then shook my head at the incongruity of me wishing for an injection!

“I’ve bought some books for you too. Your schoolbooks, and Melanie gave me a bundle of novels she said you’d like. She sends you her love by the way.” Mother stacked the books on the bedside table and then added the pink and green floral patchwork bag that held my knitting, talking all the while. “I’ve put in your knitting too. You should be able to get a nice lot of things made up for the Ladies Auxiliary while you’re bedbound. We’re running short on winter hats and vests for children and the pattern for those are simple and you’ll be able to make them up fairly quickly. Isn’t it fortunate that you didn’t break your arm?”

I held in a laugh. I didn’t mind knitting, but the idea of spending hours working up tedious patterns for the Ladies Auxiliary didn’t sound very exciting. I was glad that Mother had bought my schoolbooks too, although it made me depressed to realise that I was going to miss school for the months it took my leg to heal.

“How long will I have to stay in hospital?” I asked, a little despondently.

“Hopefully not too long,” Mother answered. “You won’t be able to get up for several months, but I can look after you at home as soon as they allow us to move you. That lovely doctor said it should be quite soon, he thought that once the bruising and swelling in your leg go down you won’t be in terrible discomfort and you’ll heal well. He looks so young! I wasn’t sure of him when we first bought you in, I thought perhaps we would be better with someone more experienced, but he _does_ have a way about him. He quite settled my nerves when I talked to him after your operation…”

Mother talked on, and I rested against the pillows as I listened. My leg ached and throbbed, and I was relieved when the nurse appeared with my lunch and some more drugs. After the drugs entered my system I wasn’t hungry, and I only ate a little of my lunch and part of a cookie that my mother had bought in before I lay back and closed my eyes. Mother kissed my forehead and promised to be back tomorrow, but before I could even say goodbye the waves of sleep washed over me and I was gone.

* * *

 

I slept until they woke me for supper. The soup wasn’t as good as what my mother could make, but I ate it anyway and finished off with a handful of the cookies Mother had brought in from home, nibbling at them slowly as I read my school history book.

“Good evening Esme.”

I jumped with surprise as I looked up to see Dr Cullen standing beside my bed. How could he move so soundlessly? But the same delicious scent of mown hay and clover seemed to drift past my nose and I smiled up at him, caught up in the lovely and unique amber colour of his eyes.

“Hello!”

“History?” Dr Cullen reached towards the book. “May I?”

“Of course.” I handed it over to him, hastily brushing off the cookie crumbs. “Would you like a cookie?” I asked, remembering my manners. “My mother made them and she’s a _very_ good cook.”

Dr Cullen smiled. “No thank you, although they do look delicious.” He flipped through my book. “Has your mother taught you all her cooking secrets then?”

“Well, she has _tried_ ,” I said, a little doubtfully. “I’m very good with puddings! But I have a bad habit of getting distracted and making silly mistakes.”

Dr Cullen was laughing. “Distracted with what? Climbing trees?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “Books, mostly. Sometimes drawing too, especially if I’m trying to draw something that keeps moving away, like the cats!”

“Is this your history text for school?” Dr Cullen asked.

I nodded as he handed it back to me. “It’s my second favourite subject, after Art. My teacher isn’t so good at drawing but he loves history, so we study that a lot more.”

“Where do you go to school? I suppose you’re too far out of town to attend the schools here.”

“Yes. I go to the local school,” I tell him. “I’ve been going there since I was four and I’m one of the oldest now.”

“I thought you must be nearly finished at the local school. Do you have any plans for the future? What would you like to do?”

I hesitated. “I would _like_ to be teacher myself. I love reading and learning, and I’m very good at explaining things to the little ones at school. I help them with their lessons quite often, so I know I’d be able to do a good job teaching. Mr Sanderson asked me to study for the college entrance exam and if I went there I could become a properly qualified teacher, but my parents are not…they don’t really…” I stopped.

Dr Cullen nodded understandingly. “I bought you something that might keep you amused a little while you’re in bed,” he said, tactfully changing the subject. He bent down and retrieved a large, heavy book from his bag and placed it gently on my lap. “I thought you might be interested.”

I opened the leather cover and leafed through the pages of the beautifully bound book, astonished at the exquisite sketches and painted pictures inside. “This is amazing! Who did this?” I turned back to the front, but there was no name on the cover or the flyleaf.

“They’re copies of some of the great masters’ paintings and sketches,” Dr Cullen said, watching my reaction with evident enjoyment. “Done to a much smaller scale of course! The text on the opposite page gives some details of the art and the original artist. I thought it might be something for you too look at, until you are able to go to Europe and see the originals for yourself!”

I laughed in delight. “Oh, it’s wonderful! I can’t believe that someone was able to do this…how did you find it?”

“It was sent to me by one of my acquaintances in Italy. He has some artistic talent of his own, as well as being very skilled at copying others. He and I used to spend a lot of time talking about art…he was much older than I and had seen a great deal.” Dr Cullen had an enigmatic smile on his face as he spoke. “But that doesn’t matter. The book has been lying around my house for years, so I thought it would be better to give it to someone who would enjoy it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly take this,” I protested, at the same time as my hands curled possessively around the edges of the cover. “It’s too much. I don’t think Mother and Father would think it was appropriate.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to be inappropriate,” Dr Cullen laughed. “Shall we call it a loan then?”

“I won’t argue with that.” I beamed at him, before my eyes were drawn irresistibly back to the beautiful paintings and drawings before me. I had never seen so much extraordinary artwork in one place, and I knew a book like that must be worth a small fortune. “It’s so funny,” I said absently, my eyes tracing the lines of an intricately copied picture. “It makes me almost despair that I’ll ever be even half as good as this. At the same time I want to just grab my sketchbook and practise and practise until I improve!”

“I think great art should inspire,” Dr Cullen said. “Perhaps this book will do that for you. But I must go and check on my other patients now. Don’t stay up too late reading, you need your rest!"

Despite lying in bed all day I actually did feel tired, but I was so fascinated by the art book that I couldn’t stop looking at it, and when I finally fell asleep I did so with the book open on my lap.

* * *

 

My days in hospital continued very much like the first one. After the first few days my leg didn’t even hurt very much, and although I disliked being continuously indoors and immobile I quite enjoyed all the time to read and draw. I also liked getting to know the nurses and hearing all the hospital news. Living out on the farm meant that my social circle were all well known to me, and it was fascinating to meet some new people and get to know them and hear about their lives here in town.

Actually, my time in hospital, once the initial pain had ended, was so interesting that I even considered changing my ambitions from teaching to nursing. I spent some hours daydreaming about being capable and efficient as I moved briskly about a hospital in my starched uniform, but then reality caught up with me and I had to admit that I was neither capable nor efficient. Besides, I thought perhaps I wouldn’t like all the bedpans and really I’d much rather read books than poke people with needles.

Mother came in for visiting hours most days, occasionally with Father, and even Melanie came one day, bringing me a new book and some raspberry jam that I kept guiltily eating with a spoon when no one was looking.

Best of all were the evenings though, when Dr Cullen came on duty. Some nights he was busy and couldn’t stay and talk, but he always came by with a smile and a word. Other nights the hospital was quiet and he sat in the chair beside my bed and talked with me about all kinds of things, like art and architecture, and some of his travels. I had never known anyone like him before, and I couldn’t believe that someone so educated and cultured could be enjoying the company of a country girl like myself. And yet he willingly sat and talked with me, interested in my opinions and all I had to say. He was never inappropriate, and every evening that I spent talking to him I found myself liking and respecting him more. As the day approached that I was due to be released from hospital, I became a little quiet and despondent at the thought of never seeing him again.

“What’s wrong Esme?” Dr Cullen asked. “You seem very quiet tonight.”

“I’m going home tomorrow,” I told him.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy getting back home to the farm,” he said lightly. “You’ve mentioned that you prefer your mother’s cooking to that of the hospital cook!”

I giggle. “That’s true.” My laugh faded. “But…I’ll miss you.” I dropped my eyes, slightly ashamed of being so bold. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you so much.”

“I’ve enjoyed it too,” Dr Cullen said. “But even if you stayed in hospital I wouldn’t be here much longer. Dr Trask will be back and I have a new job waiting for me in Minnesota. I’ll be moving on soon.”

“Oh.” I felt an unaccountably sharp stab of disappointment. It wasn’t as though I would have been seeing Dr Cullen again even if stayed at the hospital – assuming I didn’t fall out of any more trees, that is – but even so I didn’t want him moving hundreds of miles away!

“That’s quite far,” I ventured a moment later.

“Not so far, for me,” he answered, looking at me thoughtfully. “I’ve never really found a place to settle down.”

“Well, you know I’d like a chance to see more,” I said. “But I like home at the same time, and I’ll be glad to be back.”

“I’m sure your parents will be glad to have you back. You’ll be nearer your friends too, and they’ll be able to come and visit you. More visitors will make being kept in bed more interesting.”

“It’s pretty interesting here in the hospital,” I said truthfully. “I’ve made friends with the nurses and with…well, you I suppose.” I laughed self-consciously, hoping I didn’t sound too serious.

“I’ve enjoyed getting to know you too Esme,” Dr Cullen said with a smile. “It’s been a pleasure to talk with you.”

“Thank you. You’ve been so nice to me.”

“You know what you can do for me in return?” Dr Cullen asked, his voice light. “Live a long and happy life Esme. That’s what I want for you…a long and happy life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – I just have to say that Esme and Carlisle are adorable together!  
> In these chapters I wanted to write their relatively brief meeting and look at the impression they each made on each other. It’s said that Esme remembered Carlisle and thought about him in between this first meeting and when he changed her, and I think she must have made an impression on him too. I don’t imagine he thought about her in any romantic way, since she would have been barely more than a child to him, but I think he found her different to most of his patients and that he enjoyed her company.


	4. A Wedding and an Introduction (1915)

“I’m so nervous Esme. Everyone is going to be looking at me…do you think it will rain? I don’t want it to rain, although I have heard that rain on your wedding day is meant to be good luck…the feathers on the ladies’ hats though! You don’t want rain to ruin people’s best hats at your wedding…what if the afternoon tea isn’t good? Mama and the aunts and I have been baking and baking, and there’s going to be sandwiches and some cold salads, I hope people like it…”

My mouth was full of hairpins and all I could do was interject indistinct mumbles into Lucy’s rambling monologue, but that was all she wanted. Lucy, my closest friend, was about to get married, and as I tried to pin her flyaway curls into some order all she really needed was my ear.

At last I was nearly done. I added three more hairpins in an effort to control the uncontrollable, and then fastened flowers into place to hide the multitude of metal hairpins I had stabbed into the curls. “There you are. It looks lovely!”

Lucy beamed at our reflection in the mirror. “Thank you! You’ve performed a miracle, my hair actually looks tidy for once…I don’t think Nicholas will recognise me!”

I laughed, and quickly smoothed out my own hair before pinning my own spray of blossoms into place. My hair was much more manageable than Lucy’s and I thought I was looking particularly pretty with my caramel curls clustered about my head and the pink bridesmaid dress. “We should go down,” I said, handing Lucy her bouquet. “They’ll be waiting for you.”

The two of us headed downstairs, where her father was waiting to drive us to the church. Her mother and the multitude of relatives had already gone, and the house was quiet.

“All ready then?” her father asked, standing up and folding his paper. He smiled affectionately at his daughter. “You look right pretty today, Lucy my girl.”

Lucy hugged him and we all climbed into the trap. Lucy had said she was nervous, but she seemed anything but as the two of us sat in the seat and she giggled and talked.

“Nicholas has some cousins that I want to introduce you to,” Lucy said to me, with a familiar gleam in her eye. “I met them at the dinner last night, and there’s one in particular… His parents used to live in the district, he’s good looking and he has an office job, and he’s really at an age where you’d think he’d be married, so…”

“Lucy!” I exclaimed, laughing in exasperation. “Why do you insist that I have to go searching for someone to marry? You know that I’m happy as I am! I like my books and helping Mr Sanderson with the little ones at the school and my charity knitting for the Ladies Auxiliary, and I’m perfectly content to remain a spinster. Perhaps I’ll even get some cats,” I added teasingly.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “But you’d make such a good wife and mother, and I know it’s what your parents want. You just have to be realistic about the options…you can’t keep holding out for someone who’s going to measure up to your ideal of the perfect man! You know that one is never coming back.”

My lips tightened. I wished I’d never even mentioned Dr Cullen to Lucy! I _knew_ he was never coming back, and it wasn’t as though I really thought that a cultured and educated man like him would be looking for a country girl wife even if he did. I had never entertained any serious thoughts about Dr Cullen and I, but at the same time his kindness and my enjoyment of the time we’d spent together when I was sixteen had stayed with me since. And maybe the men I met as a woman didn’t quite measure up to that one golden man I had met when I was sixteen, but why should I settle for less? I hadn’t been lying when I said to Lucy that I was happy being an unmarried girl.

“At least promise me you’ll give him a chance,” Lucy said with a sigh, and I rolled my eyes but nodded assent as we drew up in front of the churchyard.

The wedding was sweet, and I was happy for Lucy and Nicholas as they made their vows. They’d been friends since childhood and I was sure they’d have a very happy life together. I was also glad that they would make their home in a little cottage on Nicholas’ parents’ farm, which Nicholas ran with his father. It was common on our district to marry early, and most of the other girls who had gone through school with Lucy and I were married and moved away by then. It was comforting to think that Lucy and I would be able to continue our friendship.

An afternoon tea was held in the church hall after the wedding. As Lucy was kissed and congratulated and fussed over by everyone who had come to see her married, I helped out by carrying cups of tea and plates of food. I didn’t mind. I enjoyed getting a chance to talk to people and I also had many compliments on my bridesmaid dress, which was flattering. At last everyone was served though, and I filled a plate for myself and sat down at an empty table to enjoy it with a cup of tea.

The table wasn’t empty for long. Only moments later Lucy came tripping over to me, her face flushed with excitement and her hair escaping from the pins and fluffing out like a halo around her face. Behind her was a man with neat brown hair and a small moustache, holding his hat in one hand and balancing a cup and saucer in the other.

“Esme! There you are!” Lucy exclaimed. “I want you to meet someone. This is Charles Evenson, Nicholas’ cousin. I think your father knows his father too. Charles, this is my best friend and bridesmaid, Esme Platt.”

Charles nodded at me. “Nice to meet you Esme,” he said, offering a hand.

I quickly brushed the crumbs off my hands and grasped his hand firmly. “You too.”

Charles looked to be several years older than I was, but there were laughter lines around his eyes as he smiled at me and I didn’t mind when he asked if he could sit with me to drink his tea. Lucy hugged me tightly and whispered, “Give him a chance!” in my ear before she flitted off again.

“You’re Nicholas’ cousin?” I said into the sudden silence.

“Yes, our mothers are sisters,” Charles replied. “Actually, my family used to farm out this way too, on the Thurston Road. My parents sold the farm and moved into town several years ago.”

Oh, _those_ Evensons. They had had one of the most profitable farms in the district and had sold it to the Millers, the family of my friend Amanda. In fact I remembered that the youngest Evenson boy had been in school when I began- Joseph or James, I wasn’t sure of the name, but he had been one of the big boys that we first year girls were scared of. I thought that my father and Mr Evenson had been friends too.

“I think I was in school with your brother?” I said questioningly. “He was one of the older boys…”

“James,” Charles filled in. “He works in the bank now.”

I could feel his eyes on me, and he was looking interested when I risked a quick, sidelong glance. He seemed nice, and I offered him my plate of food and he thanked me as he took a sandwich triangle.

“What do you do with yourself, Esme?”

“The usual things,” I said cheerfully. “I like reading and drawing, and I help Mother with the house and the farm. Our garden is doing particularly well this year. I help Mr Sanderson at the school too, teaching some of the little ones. He said they’re doing very well with me.”

I couldn’t help the tone of pride in my voice. I loved my work at the school, helping teach the first grades and doing some craft and sewing classes with the older girls. I still hoped that my parents would see what a good job I was doing and accept that I really did want to teach and give me their blessing. So far they had remained steadfast in their opinion that it wasn’t a suitable occupation for me, but in the meantime I was gaining valuable experience and having a wonderful time.

“It sounds like you keep yourself busy,” Charles said lightly.

“It’s easy when you like what you’re doing.” I drank the last of my tea and looked at him curiously. “What do _you_ do with yourself then?”

Charles laughed. “I work a lot,” he admitted. “I’m an accounts manager at a manufacturing plant and I’ve been putting in long hours, although I recently earned a promotion which was a welcome reward. I bought a house last year and I’ve been doing a lot of work on that too- it was barely fit for habitation when I bought it, but it’s much improved now.”

“What did you have to do with your house?” I asked. My interest in architecture and design hadn’t faded with years, and I was interested in what renovation and changes he might have felt necessary for a city house.

“Do you really want to know?” Charles questioned.

I nodded quickly. “Yes, I really do.”

Charles seemed amused at my interest. “I intend for it to be completely modern,” he told me. “I’ve wired it for electricity and installed the most up-to-date kitchen. I had to do a lot of structural work on it, as the floors had rotted through and some of the walls were damaged, but that’s finished and I have new flooring laid throughout, and new wallpaper hung. I screened in the back porch so there would be a place for plants and to sit in the summer. I’ve not had time to do much in the garden, but I have plans and if I get the stonework done before winter I think I’ll be ready to plant in the spring.”

“You did all that work yourself?” I was impressed.

Charles nodded. “Yes. I had some help with the electric wiring from a friend who’s had a little experience with it, but most of it was done on my own.” He grinned at me. “I may be an account manager now, but I grew up on a farm and learned to use my hands!”

I smiled. “Of course you would have. I know my father would remember your family.”

Charles glanced across the room. “Perhaps I’ll have to speak to him. My father couldn’t come today, but he asked me to give people his regards.”

“I’m sure Mother and Father would like to hear how they are now.” I ate the last little cream pastry and without thinking licked the powdered sugar from my fingers, realising too late that Charles was watching me. I blushed red and hid my hands my lap. “Oh dear, I seem to have forgotten my manners. Please forgive me.”

Charles chuckled. “Don’t give it another thought.”

I shook my head ruefully. “At least Mother didn’t see me…she thinks I behave like a barbarian sometimes! But really, those little pastries were _good_. You should have had some.”

“Maybe I should.” Charles looked across at the buffet table and then back at me. “If you promise to wait here for me I’ll bring you some more?”

“I won’t go anywhere.”

Charles was barely halfway across the room before my mother was standing at my elbow. “Esme Anne, who is that gentleman you’re talking to?” she demanded.

I wasn’t sure whether she was disapproving or excited that I was actually talking to a man. Probably excited. My friend Lucy wasn’t the only one who thought I should be more focused on finding a husband!

“Charles Evenson,” I answered. “He’s Nicholas’ cousin, and his parents used to live in the area.”

“I remember the family,” Mother said, looking at him thoughtfully. “He must be the second son. The oldest son worked the farm with Mr Evenson until he was killed, and that was when they sold the property and moved to town.”

My mother had an encyclopaedic knowledge of everyone who had ever resided in our area and everything that had happened in their lives. She wasn’t exactly a gossip, she was just…interested in people? Either way she sounded quite pleased when she added, “He’s from a good family Esme. Are you enjoying yourself with him?”

I refrained from the impatient sigh I could feel building up. “It’s nothing, Mother. Really. Lucy introduced us and he’s talking to be polite, I’m sure.”

At that moment Charles reappeared, holding a plate of pastries and cakes, a fresh cup of tea in his other hand. He gave me the teacup, placed the plate on the table, and then turned his smile on my mother, holding out his hand.

“Mrs Platt? Charles Evenson, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Mother shook his hand. “You too. I remember your parents. They’re well?”

I tuned out their conversation, more interested in the delicacies on the plate than I was in their discussion of people I didn’t know. I thought I might be making a bit of a pig of myself, but in the end I shrugged it off. Lucy and her mother certainly could bake, and it would be a shame to see any of that delicious food go to waste!

Charles and my mother eventually said goodbye and Charles sat down beside me. “Your mother is a lovely woman,” he said.

I grinned and pushed the plate towards him. “Thank you for these…you’d better have some before I eat them all!”

Charles’ eyes crinkled up and he took one of the little cherry tartlets and stuffed it into his mouth. “I wouldn’t want that!” he joked when he’d swallowed it.

We shared the remainder of the food, talking amiably. He told me about the company he worked for, who produced furniture, and about his job there. He asked about my family and what work I did on the farm, and I told him about our large kitchen garden and the laying hens.

I didn’t really keep track of time, and I was surprised when I heard the call for everyone to go outside and see the wedding couple off. Charles offered me his arm and with a slight hesitation I took his elbow and the two of us walked outside to the crowd.

Lucy looked radiant as she stood by the carriage door, smiling and blowing kisses to her tearful mother and sisters. Nicholas was beaming as he held her hand to help her up. I waved as I caught her eye and then, with unerring aim, Lucy threw her bouquet at me. I caught it automatically, before the laughter and cheers reminded me of what a caught bridal bouquet meant, and then I nearly dropped it in embarrassment. I was glad when the carriage began to move, and everyone was too busy waving at the departing bride and groom to look at me.

“Well done,” Charles said in my ear. “That was a good catch.”

I buried my nose in the sweet blossoms and didn’t answer him. It was such a silly tradition and I had no real desire to get married, but even so…

“I’d like to see you again Esme,” Charles said. “Would that be agreeable to you?”

Surprised at his directness, I looked up and met his eyes. “Well…yes, I’d like that.”

Charles smiled at me and touched my elbow lightly. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me I need to be going, and I would like a word with your father before I do.”

“Of course. I will…well, I guess I’ll see you again?”

Charles smiled and gave me a quick wink. “Very soon, I hope.”

I watched him stride across to my father and shake his hand, noting how confidently he held himself and how assured he was as he introduced himself. As I watched I idly twirled the bouquet until I felt a sharp jab into my thumb.

“Ouch!” I exclaimed, looking down to see where a thorn from one of the roses’ stems had pierced my thumb. They were supposed to have been all removed…I guessed they must have missed one. The bead of blood welling up from my skin was dark red, and without a second thought I licked it away and then scraped the thorn from the stem with my thumbnail. There. It was gone, and once again I admired the prettiness of the flowers, smelling their sweet, cloying scent.


	5. A Winter Romance

Charles wasted no time. He spoke to my parents at Lucy’s wedding, and the very next Sunday he appeared at our house for dinner. At Mother’s prodding I went out to greet him as he dismounted his grey horse.

“Good day,” he said, formally tipping his hat to me, and then smiling at me with a more relaxed air. “How are you keeping?”

“Very well,” I said, a little awkwardly. Charles wasn’t the first man that had called on me at home, but it still felt uncomfortable. I hated the thought that ran below it all, that they were here appraising me for marriage, judging my suitability as a wife and housekeeper and eventually mother. “If the horse will tie up you can use the hitching post under the tree, or put her in the yard,” I added.

“She’ll tie up,” Charles answered, slapping her flanks affectionately. “She’s a good old girl.” He led her to the shady spot under the willow and removed the tack quickly, leaving her hitched to the post. I patted her neck and she blew at me and rested a lazy hoof, obviously planning no mischief.

“I’m thinking of buying an automobile,” Charles said as we walked to the house. “I like them and think they’re the way of the future. But the horse is so reliable and it’s easy to find people to care for them. Good mechanics are much harder to come by.”

My mother and father met him on the porch, and he greeted them and complimented them on the house and garden. “Perhaps Esme can show me around later?” he suggested, and somewhat to my chagrin Mother immediately agreed with him.

She could have at least _asked_ me if I wanted to, I thought grimly, following them up the steps and into the sitting room. I had no objection to showing Charles around our garden, after all I’d done a lot of work on it and was quite proud of it, but it would have been nice to think my opinion mattered!

I said little in the sitting room. Father offered Charles a drink, which he accepted and sipped in between answering the many questions my parents asked him. I heard more about his family and his business, and then he and Father began talking about the situation in Europe and I tuned out. Father was obsessed with politics and would talk about the looming issues in Europe with anyone who would listen to him, and I’d heard it all before.

I knew better than to fidget, so I laced my hands decorously in my lap and pretended to be listening as I contemplated Charles. I wondered how old he was. I guessed he had to be at least twelve years older than me, since his brother must have been ten years older than me when we were at school together and Charles was older than that. It seemed like a lot, but when he turned and gave me a quick, flashing smile it didn’t seem like such a big gap. His deep voice sounded confident and assured as he talked, which I liked. He wasn’t tall, but his broad shoulders and the angle he held his head at made him seem more imposing than height alone would have. His features were slightly too heavy to be classically handsome, I thought critically, but I liked the way his eyes crinkled up when he smiled and the way his brown hair swept back from his forehead.

“Esme darling, would you help me with the dinner?” Mother asked sweetly.

I immediately jumped to my feet, took two steps and tripped over the rug. I heard Charles muffling a laugh as I scrambled back to my feet and fled to the kitchen, my face flaming.

“Oh Esme!” Mother shook her head at me. “You really must stop dreaming and pay attention to what you’re doing!”

“I didn’t mean it!” I protested as I carried the vegetable platter into the dining room and took my seat opposite Charles.

He smiled at me and said, “As long as you’re not hurt.”

I smiled back, and shrugged. I had never understood how I could climb trees and walk along fences and jump rocks across the stream and never put a foot wrong, and then trip over rugs or miss my footing and come tumbling out of the buggy into the mud.

Dinner with my parents and Charles was surprisingly enjoyable. Father _did_ try to start in on politics again, but Charles quite skilfully deflected the conversation onto more neutral territory and included Mother and I in the talk. Once we’d all finished eating Mother began gathering the plates, but as I stood up to help she shook her head at me.

“I’ll manage, Esme. You could take Charles outside and show him around the garden.” It was not so much a suggestion as an order.

Charles followed me outside, and then I gave him a quick tour of the garden. It wasn’t as pretty as it was in spring with everything blooming, but I loved the bright fall colours.

“It’s very impressive,” Charles complimented me. “You must work hard.” He turned into the orchard gate and I walked with him, absent-mindedly kicking at the leaves that had blown up against the fence.

“I don’t mind hard work,” I said. “At least…I don’t mind _some_ kinds of hard work!” I added honestly. “I like the garden because I like being outdoors.”

Charles laughed. “Would I be right in guessing you were a bit of a tomboy as a child?”

I scrunched up my face and giggled. “I’m afraid so. I loved to run and climb trees and play outside. I think my parents wondered if I’d ever settle down and begin to act properly.”

“And have you?” Charles questioned lightly.

I looked thoughtfully across the orchard. “I think so. I still dream about going places and doing things, but I know that I have responsibilities and I try to take care of them.” I hesitated. “My father was sick last winter. Pneumonia. It got very bad and we weren’t sure if… Well, he recovered for the most part, but he’s not as strong as he was. I know he worries about me, and I don’t want to trouble him.”

Charles nods. “I can understand that. You’re their only child?”

“Yes. I wasn’t born until they’d been married a long time too. Mother said they’d almost given up hope and then I came along.” I leaned on the fence rail and looked at Charles. “It’s probably why they worry about me so much.”

Shep, our old dog, came loping across the orchard to me. I bent down and kissed his ears, burying my hands deep in his fur and crooning to him before I looked up at Charles. He was standing stiffly and looking at the dog almost with dislike.

“You don’t like animals?” I said in surprise.

“I appreciate animals for their usefulness; I have no use for animals as pets,” Charles said flatly.

I couldn’t imagine a life with pets. While Shep had once helped guard our farm against predators he had always been a pet too, and since he’d grown old and arthritic all he did was lie outside in the sun in summer and inside by the fire in winter. There had been other dogs as I was growing up, as well as my mother’s sweet little canaries that made such cheerful song in their delicate iron cage. I didn’t tell Charles any of this though, instead I gave Shep a final scratch behind the ears and stood up straight.

“Would you like to keep walking?” I asked, and Charles nodded.

“I would like that, thank you Esme.”

We walked around the garden again, and then went inside and had a cup of tea before Charles thanked my parents for the lunch and said he had to be going.

“I’ve enjoyed myself,” he said sincerely.

“You must come again,” Mother said, and gave him a big smile. “It was a pleasure having you, and I’m sure Esme enjoyed the company.”

I had to refrain from screaming. Really, Mother could hardly be any more obvious if she tied a bow around my neck and served me up on a platter.

But Charles didn’t seem particularly put out by her obvious hints. Instead he smiled at her and promised to come again, and I was left wondering whether I had any agency in my life at all.

Two weeks later Charles came for Sunday dinner again, and then it somehow became a weekly ritual through the winter. Unless the weather was very bad he would ride over and eat with us, and then he and I might walk outside, or if it were too cold or wet we’d sit inside by the fire. He talked politics with Father and gardening with Mother, and told me about the work he was doing on his house and his investigations into buying an automobile. He told me stories about growing up on the farm, with his brothers and sister. He taught me to play cribbage, and we spent many winter hours in friendly competition.

Throughout the district there was a lot of gossip about Charles’ visits and speculation on his intentions. I was teased good naturedly about a summer wedding, and that instead of becoming the old maid I’d seem destined to be I was going to become a city bride.

I pretended to laugh at the teasing and just shook my head at my friends when they made jokes about my hope chest and my vanishing chances of spinsterhood, but the truth was that the situation was starting to make me uneasy and I didn’t quite know what I should do about it.

I liked Charles. He was polite and considerate towards both my parents and me. I admired his determination and was impressed with his range of skills; and I knew that with his pleasant manner, decent looks, steady job and established house he would be considered by most people to be an excellent candidate for a husband. As the winter wore on it became increasingly obvious that his intentions towards me were serious.

The first problem was, I didn’t know if I wanted his intentions towards me to be serious! I enjoyed spending time with him, but affection isn’t love and I had always wanted to marry for love. Charles was steady and responsible, but I couldn’t help thinking that he lacked a little imagination and warmth and that I might miss that, if I were to spend the rest of my life with him.

The second problem was that no one seemed to be asking me what I thought anyway! After the first few times when Charles had asked if I would like to see him again, he and my parents seemed to just make all the arrangements between them, assuming that I would be more than happy to comply.

I could have told them that I didn’t like him. I could have said that I wanted the visits to stop. But I didn’t really mind, Charles was a pleasant enough diversion during a dull winter, and it made my parents happy. Especially my father, whose health seemed so fragile as the damage the previous winter’s pneumonia had left in his lungs made itself known. So let myself drift along, caught up in a current that I didn’t realise was so strong as it swept me towards a new and different life.

* * *

 

 “Esme dear, we’d like to have a word with you.”

“Hmmm?” I mumbled absently, most of my attention on the sketch I was doing. Shep, in front of the fire…there was something not right. I frowned at it, tapping the pencil against the paper and tilting my head to look at it from another angle.

“Now, Esme!” My mother snatched the book from my lap. “Pay attention, please!”

I looked up in surprise. It was evening, and Mother, Father and I were all sitting in the kitchen. Father was in his easy chair by the window, a place he had been sitting more and more often during the long, cold winter. Mother was in the chair opposite him with her mending, and I was sitting on a cushion on the floor beside her with my sketchbook on my lap.

“What is it?”

My parents exchanged meaningful glances, and then Father cleared his throat. “I saw Charles today when I went into town. He and I had a long talk.”

I tightened my grip on my pencil, but didn’t say a word.

“You and he have been seeing a lot of each other,” Father went on. “He wanted to make his intentions clear and ask for my blessing before he spoke to you.”

My heart thumped. “So…so soon?” I faltered. “It’s hardly been any time at all.”

“It’s been several months,” Mother said quickly. “And you must remember that he’s a little older than you and ready to settle down. He has a good stable job and a lovely house that’s ready for his wife.”

“He asked if he could take you into town on Sunday, and show you his house,” Father said, giving me a smile.

“I don’t know what to say.” I fidgeted anxiously. “I wasn’t expecting this…he’s really going to propose?”

“You’re not pleased? We thought you liked him!” Mother exclaimed.

“I do like him,” I said hastily. “I’m just not sure…well, I don’t know if I want to marry him.”

“It would be a good thing for you Esme,” Father said coaxingly. “Charles is a strong man, he’s well established and he’d look after you.”

“You want to get married and have babies,” Mother added. “Charles is keen for that…he’s very fond of you.”

I chewed on my fingernails for a moment before I ventured, “I don’t know if I love him though, Mother.”

Mother stroked my hair as I looked up her. “Love can come later, Esme. If you like him and respect him, that’s a good start for a marriage.”

“It would be good to see you settled,” Father said to me in a low voice. “We love you Esme, and you know we want the best for you. It would make us very happy to see you wedded to someone who we know will take care of you.”

I chewed on my fingernails and didn’t answer, my stomach churning anxiously. This wasn’t just about Charles and I. As much as I hated to think about it, I knew my father’s health was declining. The pneumonia last winter had turned him into an old man seemingly overnight, and this winter hadn’t been kind to him. I knew how much he worried about me, and how happy and relieved it would make him to see me well set up in life before something happened to him.

“I told Charles he could speak to you about it,” Father told me. “He’s going to take you out for dinner on Sunday. We want you to be happy Esme, so I hope you’ll give serious thought to the matter before you decide.”

“Of course I will.” I rose to my feet, my mind whirling. “Excuse me, I’m going to go to bed.”

I kissed my parents goodnight and hurried off to my bedroom. I didn’t want to hear them talking about Charles and I anymore, and what they wanted me to do. I just wanted to be alone, to think about what a marriage to that pleasant, ordinary man would mean for me and for my family that I loved.

It wasn’t what I had dreamed of, but maybe my mother was right. Maybe starting off with affection and respect was good enough, and in time love would come.

And maybe it was time to say goodbye to the memory of a golden-eyed doctor and his beautiful smile.


	6. A House and a Proposal (1916)

“Let me help you.”

I took Charles’ hand and felt his hand on my back guiding me as I climbed into the buggy seat. There was a folded blanket on the seat, worn but clean, and when Charles climbed up beside me he pushed it a little closer to me.

“I bought a blanket in case you get cold,” he told me. Before I answered he turned to my parents and tipped his hat. “I’ll bring her back by suppertime.”

My parents were both beaming as they waved us goodbye, and I waved back half-heartedly. Everyone else seemed so pleased and sure about the situation…why did I feel like I was falling? It wasn’t a wholly unpleasant feeling, but I couldn’t dismiss the uncertainty underlying it.

Even so, it was a pleasant drive. The day was cold and windy, and although the sun shone I was grateful Charles had thought to put in a rug. He was relaxed and kept me laughing with some tales of the customers at the furniture factory he worked at. I didn’t go into town very often and so as we drew closer there was much for me to see as Charles manoeuvred the buggy through the increasingly busy roads.

His house was on a quiet side street, behind a neat picket fence. It was small, but it was painted a bright white with black trim, the porch was swept neatly and the brass knocker gleamed. You could tell that the garden was newly planted, but there were two good young trees that would grow up to provide some nice shade, and the other small seedlings looked to be thriving in the early spring weather. The paved path looked inviting as it curved its way towards the front door.

“It looks lovely!” I told Charles sincerely. “It’s so tidy and looks so friendly!”

Charles’ eyes crinkled up in pleasure at my honest admiration. “It’s come together very well,” he said. “I hope you like the inside as much.”

He helped me down from the buggy and then rapidly unhitched the horse and led her to a stable in the corner of the small, cobbled rear yard. “I usually keep her stabled at a place in the next road,” he told me. “It’s easier to have someone else do the caretaking, and then I can simply have her ready when I need her. But I’ll be driving you back later, so she can spend the day here.”

He filled a hay net, and I found the smell of the hay and the stable surprisingly comforting. It reminded me of the farm and made me feel a little more comfortable in this strange town environment.

“It’s a good street in a good area of town,” Charles informed me as he led me back to the front door. “The renovations have increased the value of the property and I hope it will be a good investment in the long term.”

I wasn’t very interested in the investment potential. Instead I stopped to examine the almost bare porch and imagine how it would look if I replaced the ancient, ugly armchair with a comfortable chair for reading, and planted a vine to climb and bloom along the overhang.

Inside the house was simple, but painstakingly finished and immaculately clean. The front door opened into a dim hallway that went the whole way to the rear of the house. There was a straight staircase with a smooth, polished rail leading upstairs, and doors that opened onto a sitting room on the right and a dining room on the left. The furniture was all simple, dark wood- a dining table with six chairs and a sideboard to match in the dining room, and two armchairs upholstered in blue with a sofa to match and dark wooden side tables. Both rooms had fireplaces, as well as electric light.

The kitchen was behind the dining room with a swinging door adjoining the two. It also had a door from the hall, which Charles led me through. I liked the kitchen. It was obviously where Charles spent most of his time and it had a more lived-in air than the rest of the house. It had a scrubbed wooden table with some mismatched chairs, a stone sink and some beautiful cabinetry. An easy chair with a lamp beside it stood beside the range, which was very shiny and clearly new. A desk was against the far wall, the top of it covered in neat stacks of ledgers and notebooks.

“This is where I’ve been doing the bookwork,” Charles said when he noticed me looking at it. “There are two rooms upstairs and I thought I would use one as a study, but I’ve not got the furniture yet.”

I nodded and ran my hand along the smooth wood of the table as I followed Charles back into the hallway and then into the room across the hall, which was the bedroom. I blushed at being in Charles’ personal space, but sensing my embarrassment he didn’t linger in there, instead taking my hand and keeping me with him as he mounted the stairs. The two upstairs rooms were unfurnished, but the smell of floor polish and wallpaper paste made me think they must have been finished only recently.

I stood by the window, peering through the small panes of glass at the street outside. Several houses down a little boy was out on the pavement playing with a ball, and I watched with a smile as he dropped it and went chasing it as it bounced across the road. Despite the lack of furniture I thought this room, with its pale green striped wallpaper and polished floorboards and the sun streaming through the window, might be my favourite.

“It’s all lovely,” I said to Charles as I heard him approach and stand behind me. “You should be so proud of yourself! You’ve made a lovely home.”

I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Thank you Esme. I wanted to show you, because I wanted to ask you if perhaps you could see this as _your_ home?”

My heart thudded painfully and turned to face Charles, slightly disconcerted to find him standing so close to me. But when he took my hands his felt big and warm around mine, and his smile was kind.

“I would like to bring you here as a bride, Esme. I would like very much to marry you, if you would do me the honour of saying yes.”

He didn’t speak of love, but in an odd way I found that reassuring. I didn’t love him, and I wouldn’t want to deceive him into thinking there were feelings there that I didn’t have. But a marriage based on fondness and respect could work too, and as Mother had said, love could come later. If I said yes to him it would make Mother and Father so happy, and they were right that I liked Charles and he was a steady, well-established man. He wanted me to say yes, and I would do my best to make him happy too.

And if I got married, one day there might be a baby. I would like that very much, I thought, a little baby of my own to love and take care of.

So I gave Charles an uncertain smile as he held my hands in his, and nodded slightly. “I think that would be nice…yes. I would like to marry you Charles, thank you.”

I dropped my eyes, not sure what came next, but then Charles tipped my face up to his and pressed his lips against mine and kissed me. His mouth was soft, although his moustache tickled, but kissing him was far from unpleasant.

Before it could be considered terribly inappropriate though, Charles drew back. I was half disappointed that the kiss was over and half shocked with myself for having enjoyed it so much, but before I could think about this surprising revelation any further Charles dipped into his pocket and brought out a ring.

My eyes widened. The ring was gold, set with a large white pearl and surrounded by smaller diamonds that made it resemble a flower. It looked almost ridiculously ornate on my hand as Charles slid it onto my finger, and it was much too big.

“It was my grandmother’s ring. She gave it to my father to give to the first of us boys to be engaged,” Charles said. He lifted my hand with the ring on it and kissed my knuckles before he slipped the ring off. “We’ll have to get it resized. I’ll keep it for you, so it doesn’t get lost.”

“It’s stunning,” I said. It was a little too ostentatious for my taste, but the ring was grand and beautiful and must be worth a lot of money. I knew it was important to Charles that I wear it. “I’ll wear it with pride.”

“I thought we could go out for dinner,” Charles said. “I’ve made reservations at the hotel dining room, I thought you’d like that and as a bachelor I’m not much good at cooking.”

I realised that as a married woman I would be expected to do all the cooking and I felt a sudden lurch of unease. My mother had taught me to cook and I was reasonably competent, but to be solely responsible for all the cooking and housework seemed like something of a daunting prospect.

Still, all that was some time away so I put it out of my mind and enjoyed the dinner with Charles. The hotel was elegant and the food was very good, and Charles was obviously pleased that I’d accepted his proposal. He told me that he’d leave the furnishing of the upstairs to me, and suggested I look for some art to hang on the walls or even consider painting something of my own.

“I want you to be happy there,” he told me sincerely. “I think I’m a lucky man, and I want you to be happy too.”

I thought about the art book Dr Cullen had give me years ago, and my favourite painting and sketches from there. I knew I wouldn’t possibly find anything as exquisite as that, but I was excited at the idea of possibly copying something. Perhaps I’d spend time over the spring panting a picture of the farm to hang in Charles’ house in town to make me feel more at home.

The two of us called on a jeweller after lunch, who measured my finger and promised to have the ring resized and ready as soon as possible. After that we began the drive back to the farm, Charles very keen to tell my parents that I’d accepted him.

“They’ll be pleased,” I said, a little shyly. “They like you, and they want to see me settled.”

I was right about that. My father shook Charles’ hand with such vigour he nearly dislocated his shoulder and my mother crushed me in a hug and wept happy tears on my shoulder. I was glad they were so pleased for me, but at the same time a little put out…surely they couldn’t be _that_ thrilled to be getting rid of me!

“When were you thinking of having the wedding?” Mother asked.

I opened my mouth to say that we hadn’t talked about a date yet, but Charles spoke over the top of me.

“I don’t really want to wait. The house is ready and Esme is of age, so there isn’t a reason to delay. I thought late spring or early summer would be nice for a wedding. That’s time enough to get ready.”

I quickly shut my mouth that had fallen open with shock. So soon? It was early spring now! If Charles had his way I could be married in a matter of a couple of months. Was that really wise? We hadn’t been seeing each other very long, wouldn’t a long engagement make more sense?

Clearly, my mother didn’t agree with my thoughts.

“Oh, early summer would be lovely!” she gushed. “Time enough to arrange everything, and we’ll likely have good weather for a beautiful wedding. Oh Esme darling, we’ll have to sort out a dress for you!”

“The wedding will be over and done with before the harvest too,” my father said, more practically. “That’s a good thing.”

Charles was smiling broadly. “I hoped you’d agree with my thoughts. I’ve waited to look for a wife until I was properly able to provide for her, but I am very much ready now.” He took my hand and squeezed it tightly. “I think Esme is going to make a wonderful wife.”

Feeling very much like events were spiralling out of my control, I let him grasp my hand and smiled a little dazedly at my parents. A summer wedding? Well, if it was going to happen then I suppose there wasn’t much point in waiting. A summer wedding would be nice, with some sunshine and flowers and…oh my goodness, I’m going to be a _wife_?

It all seemed even more real that evening, when Charles kissed me goodbye before he left and I sat at the table staring at a Mother’s list of things that had to be done to organise a wedding. For a moment I thought of my dreams of becoming a teacher and felt tears prickling at my eyes because it was never going to happen now. I was going to be Charles’ wife, and likely settle right down in Columbus and stay there. I would make it a good life, I knew I could do that, but it wouldn’t be the freedom I had once hoped for.

Before I could dwell though, Mother came bustling into the kitchen with her arms full of yellowing silk and lace.

“This is Grandmother’s wedding dress. I’ve had it stored up in the attic…it’s a little yellow, but not as bad as I had feared. I thought we could do something with it for you. You’re about the same size as she was, a little smaller but we can make some alterations. I hope it’s not too old fashioned for you! It’s lovely though, and I’m sure she would have loved to see you in. Charles told me he gave you his grandmother’s ring though, and I thought this might go with it nicely…”

I blinked at her. This morning I wasn’t even engaged, and now suddenly I had a wedding date and a dress and a house that was waiting for me to move into and become a real grown up lady? But I didn’t say anything. Instead I just smiled and nodded, and followed my mother into her bedroom so she could remove my day dress and stuff me into Grandmother’s dress, talking all the while as I tried to absorb what the events of today would mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Wow, two chapters in two days, I’ve got some writing mojo going on at the moment so I hope you’re enjoying it!  
> Although it is a bit sad to see Esme really pushed into this marriage that she’s uncertain about, especially considering how little she really knows Charles. I’ve been talking with a few people about it through messages, and a lot of it is really just a product of the times they’re living in- Esme’s parents love her and honestly think this marriage is the best thing she can do. Charles is older than she is, intelligent and well mannered, and is settled with a job and has a home ready for her. That kind of security would be very desirable to them.  
> And Esme wants to make them happy, and as a girl during those times she really didn’t have a lot of agency in her own life. The things she wanted to do, such as travel and teaching, are not things she really feels that she’s going to be able to manage. She has come to see marriage as the inevitable trajectory of her life, and figures it may as well be Charles since she has no real objections to him and it will make several people very happy if she says yes.


	7. Bride

My room looked so bare.

I couldn’t help but feel a little dismal as I looked around. The bed I was sitting on was still covered with the patchwork quilt, but the embroidered cushions were gone from the narrow window seat and the bookcase was empty of the books and knick knacks that usually cluttered the shelves. The dressing table held only a scatter of hair pins and my bridal bouquet, waiting for me to carry it on my walk down the aisle. I couldn’t see it, but I knew that the wardrobe and drawers were empty too, all my things taken to Charles’ house the previous day.

 _My_ house, I corrected myself, trying to make it feel like it was true. It was my wedding day, and tonight I wouldn’t be Esme Platt anymore, but Esme Evenson, and Charles would take me home to our house.

Absently I drew my legs up onto the bed, resting my chin on my knees. It felt so strange to look at the sunshine out my window and hear the noise drifting in from the orchard and know that all those people were there to see me married to Charles! I was just waiting until the right time and then Mother would come and fetch me and Father would walk me down the aisle. There would be the wedding and then a lunch, and then I would put on the pretty blue going-away dress that was hanging in Mother’s room and that would be it. I touched the pearl on my finger. I was hardly even used to wearing this large engagement ring, and now I was going to be a bride.

“Esme! Oh heavens, stand up…your dress!” Mother scolded, as she bustled into the room. “Honestly!”

I scrambled to my feet, letting Mother flap at the full skirt of the dress, clucking about the creases I’d put into it by sitting so carelessly on the bed. I just shook my head. It wasn’t as though you could see anything amiss- I might have creased the silk but the fluttering layers of lace overlaying it would hide that from view.

I _did_ like my dress. It had been my grandmother’s, a simple style with elbow length sleeves and a plain bodice, with layers of lace overlaying the full skirt and lace trimming the sleeves and neckline. My grandmother must have worn it with hoops, but I didn’t want to do that and it looked lovely without. No good for climbing trees, but it did have a wonderful way of swishing about my legs when I had danced around the dining room in it when no one was looking!

Mother stopped fussing and took my cheeks in both her hands, kissing me soundly on the forehead. “I’m so pleased for you,” she said, her voice catching. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman, and you’ve found a good, well-respected man to be your husband. I hope you’ll be very happy Esme.”

I hugged her tightly, careless of any creases that I might put in her or my clothes. “I love you Mama. I’m going to miss you.” That was true. Part of me was excited about my new life, about being a wife with my own house and living in town, but I knew I would be terribly homesick for my parents and the familiarity of the farm.

“Of course you will, but you’ll be too busy to worry about anything like that,” Mother said firmly. “You must concentrate on being a good wife Esme Anne. You’ll have lots to occupy yourself with learning to run your own house and take care of Charles. We’ve talked about it all and I’ve lent you my household manual and you may ask for any advice you need of course, but you must do your best and make it work.”

I nodded. In the two months of my engagement my mother had crammed in lessons on everything she thought I ought to know, and my head was full to bursting with recipes and household hints and tips. “I think I’ve got everything.”

“Good girl. I know you’ll be fine.” Mother rearranged the veil hanging down my back, poking the pins holding it more firmly into my hair. “Let’s get your bouquet. They’re ready for you, and we don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

My heart was thumping as I picked up my bouquet, and I had a sudden, blinding desire to run far away. But it was far too late for second thoughts, so I took a deep breath as I picked up the flowers and followed Mother out of the house and over to the orchard gate, where Father was waiting.

I didn’t have any attendants. I had hoped Lucy would be matron of honour for me, but she was quite pregnant by then and wasn’t comfortable standing up with me. So it was just Father and I walking across the orchard grass towards Charles and the minister, who were standing in front of an apple tree with branches heavy with fruit.

The ceremony felt almost as though it was happening to someone else. I looked at Charles and I said the words obediently when the minister directed me to speak, and I let him slide the plain gold band onto my finger, where it nestled in beside the pearl and diamond flower. I kissed him as the sun shone warm on my shoulders and the scent of apples and mown grass drifted past, and I walked back down the aisle with my arm tucked in Charles’ elbow and accepted the hugs and kisses and congratulations. And all the time, none of it felt real.

Charles kept me by his side as everyone ate the luncheon, and I began to feel more like myself when he brought me a plate of food and a drink of lemonade. Everyone was happy for us, and I felt almost overwhelmed with the amount of good wishes and congratulations.

Lucy came inside to help me off with the wedding dress and on with the going-away dress when the time came. Her big belly was only partly hidden by her loose dress, and it bumped against my hip when she reached up to detach the veil.

 “It was a lovely wedding…and you always said you were so happy to be a spinster!” she teased me, laying the veil across the bed and

“I would have been!” I protested, laughing. “But I think this might be nice too.”

I hoped my marriage would be nice. I was fond of Charles, but my feelings for him hadn’t deepened into love, and deep inside I still wasn’t sure I had done the right thing. But my parents were so happy, and Father had told me how relieved he was that I would be taken care of no matter what happened to he and Mother. I couldn’t be sorry that I’d taken that worry about him. I said nothing of this to Lucy though.

“It will be,” Lucy said confidently. “And just think, Charles and Nicholas are cousins, so now it’s like we’re really family.”

I gave her a genuine smile. “Thank you for being such a good friend Lucy.” I shrugged out of the wedding gown and laid it across the bed with the veil, leaving them both for Mother to deal with. I tugged on my new blue dress and fastened the buttons with shaking hands, realising how close we were to the moment that I would have to leave.

“Were you frightened?” I asked Lucy abruptly. “After your wedding? It’s all going to be so different.”

Lucy shook her head. “No. I loved Nicholas for a long time. I know it’s been much less time for you to get used to the idea with Charles, but you don’t need to be afraid.” She hesitated. “You know about…tonight?”

“Yes, I know about all that.” I’d grown up on a farm and knew as much as all farm children did about such things, and then my mother had proved almost disturbingly frank in her determination to see me prepared for _all_ areas of being a wife. “I’m not scared of that, not exactly. It’s just…everything, you know?”

“I think I know.” Lucy’s hand rubbed her rounded belly unconsciously as she smiled at me, and then leaned forward and impulsively kissed my cheek. “You’ll be fine though Esme, really you will.”

There was a shout from the yard, and I took a deep breath and picked up my clutch. “I guess it’s time.”

Lucy held my hand in hers as the two of us walked out to the front porch. My parents hugged and kissed me goodbye, and then Charles helped me up into the buggy and we drove away under a shower of rice and shouted good wishes.

The noise of the party at the farm was long behind us when I sighed and finally relaxed a little. Charles gave me a small sideways smile.

“Are you glad that’s over then?”

I giggled. “A little bit,” I confessed. “I don’t know how I feel about being the centre of attention like that, and I was so scared that I’d trip or drop the flowers or forget the words!”

Charles chuckled, and rubbed his hand against my thigh. “You were perfect.”

“Are you glad it’s over?” I asked. “Did you feel awkward too?”

“No,” Charles shook his head. “I didn’t feel particularly awkward…but I _am_ glad it’s over because now you’re my wife and I get to take you home.”

I flushed under his intense gaze and squirmed in embarrassment. Oh… _that_. I had told the truth when I told Lucy I wasn’t afraid of what Charles would want to do to me, but it wasn’t as though I was necessarily very comfortable with the prospect. In all honesty the idea seemed preposterous…how could you and a man do something like that and not _laugh_?

“Are you tired?” Charles asked as we turned into his street.

I shook my head. “Not that much.”

“We’ll take the horse to the stable and then walk,” Charles decided, and drew up in front of the livery stables where he kept the horse. The groom came out and added his congratulations, calling me Mrs Evenson which made me blush and bite back a laugh. I’d spent twenty one years being Esme Platt, and I wondered how long it would take me to feel like the name Mrs Evenson belonged to me.

I still felt awkward when we were at last inside Charles’ house. _My house_ , I told myself fiercely. I was glad I’d brought my things along yesterday because it made me feel at least a little bit at home to see my paintings hung on the walls and the tablecloth I’d embroidered myself spread over the table in the kitchen.

“Supper?” Charles asked, “Something light, after that excellent lunch.”

I nodded and blushed as I stumbled around the kitchen, conscious of him watching me as I made omelettes and fried potatoes. I was terrified that I’d burn it or drop the pan or _somehow_ ruin this first meal together, and it was with a great sense of relief that I placed the plates in front of Charles and sat down.

“This is good,” Charles complimented me, but apart from that we ate in silence. At least, he ate. I nibbled at some potatoes and stirred the eggs around to make it look as though I was eating, but the sky was growing darker and I was growing far too anxious about the night ahead to make my stomach accept a big meal.

Once he’d finished eating, Charles yawned and stretched in his chair. “It’s been a long day,” he commented. “I think we should turn in. You go in first- I’ll have a smoke and see to the fire before I come in.”

Silently I used the washroom as Charles sat on the front porch with his pipe, and then I closed myself into the bedroom. I was careful to hang my blue dress back up in the cupboard, rather than fling it over the chair as I usually did at home, and then I found my nightgowns in the drawer and slipped one on. The night air was cool and I shivered as I pulled the pins out of my hair and brushed it quickly, braiding it into a long plait that hung down my back almost to my waist. My face in the mirror looked pale and terrified, and I crossed my eyes and stuck my tongue out at my own reflection and then giggled at myself. Whatever happened it couldn’t be that bad, surely? Everyone did it, and Charles was nice. It would be okay.

Hearing his heavy tread in the hallway I took a flying leap onto the bed and hastily pulled the covers over me. Lying down felt too strange and vulnerable though, so I was sitting up with my chin resting on my bent knees when Charles entered the room. Seeing me, he smiled.

“Okay?”

I nodded, glad the room was dim enough that he couldn’t see me blushing. This all felt like some elaborate game of pretend, and yet as I watched Charles remove his waistcoat and trousers and shirt, getting down to his underclothes before even those were discarded and left on the floor I knew it was anything but a game. Scared to see him naked I buried my face in my arms until I felt the bed move as he sat down on it.

Charles slid into bed beside me, but rather than dithering about like I was doing he just yawned again and stretched out on his back before he rolled over on his side to face me.

“Lie down,” he requested, and I squirmed down under the covers. The bed was softer than mine at home, and I thought it would be comfortable when I actually relaxed enough to enjoy it.

Charles toyed with the end of my braid, tickling my neck and face with it until I giggled and pushed his hand away. “Your mother talked to you?” he asked, as he dropped the braid and his hands moved to the buttons on the front of my nightie.

I nodded wordlessly. Braced for him to just start getting down to business I was a little surprised when Charles leaned closer to me and kissed me. Softly at first, and then a little harder, his kisses made my heart and my belly flutter, so much so that when he first began unbuttoning my nightie I didn’t even notice. I did notice when he pulled it open to expose my breasts, and I shivered as his hot hands cupped and squeezed and caressed. When he lowered his mouth to them and took a nipple in his mouth I yelped, astonished at the way it made me feel. Mother hadn’t told me about _this._ She hadn’t told me I might _enjoy_ it.

Charles growled and suckled harder, pulling my nipple deeper into his mouth as he began drawing up my nightgown. I felt his hand sliding up my leg, bunching the fabric up around my hips, his fingers squeezing my behind and then trailing around to push in between my thighs. For a moment I tensed, clamping my legs together.

“Let me,” Charles said hoarsely.

Hesitantly I relaxed my legs, letting him push them further apart until he could reach in between, trying not to squirm away from his touch. Sensing my reluctance Charles leaned over and kissed me again, playing with my breasts until I was half dizzy. Much to my surprise he broke off the kiss and spat into his hand, which he then rubbed in between my legs.

At first I was disgusted, but the saliva made his hand slippery and the uncomfortable groping soon turned to something else completely as his fingers found parts of my body that I didn’t even know existed.

 _Oh. My. Goodness._ _Why didn’t I get married years ago?_

I didn’t know what was happening, what all these waves of heat and pleasure that were making my thighs tremble were leading up to. But before I could find out Charles rolled on top of me with a grunt, and I felt something hard pushing into me, splitting me open as I gasped in a silent scream.

The pain only lasted a second. As Charles moved in me, his weight pinning me to the bed, I began to feel some slight stirrings of the pleasure he had brought me with his hands. Before it could build into anything Charles gave a final, heavy thrust and then groaned, his whole body shuddering over mine. For a moment I couldn’t even breathe with his weight on me, but then he kissed my forehead, rolled off me and was asleep almost in minutes.

When he started snoring very soon afterward I gently slid my own hand down in between my legs, touching myself for the first time. I hoped I wasn’t bleeding on the clean sheets- everything was wet but nothing hurt. And then I found the place that Charles had been touching and bit my lip to keep silent as I circled and rubbed and teased until all that unfamiliar throbbing and tingling coalesced into the most intense burst of pleasure imaginable. Praying I wouldn’t wake Charles, I buried my face in the pillow as my entire body shook and a grin of pure bliss split my face.

Maybe marriage would be good after all.


	8. Reality Setting In

Charles took me to church the first morning, holding my arm possessively as I tried to look more poised and confident than I felt. This wasn’t the friendly little church at home, filled with people I’d known my whole life, but instead a much larger building filled with strangers.

The prayers were the same though, and the songs were ones I knew. Afterwards Charles introduced me to several other church members he was friends with, and I smiled brightly and tried to remember everyone’s names. One of the wives was quite friendly, and invited me to join in her ladies’ group who met each week and were currently knitting and sewing for the war orphans in Europe. Charles nodded at me, and I thanked her and said I would come.

“You’ll soon feel quite at home here in town,” Charles said as we walked home. “If you make some friends they can help you find your way around, and the meetings will be something to occupy your days. Until you have a baby of course, then you’ll be kept busy enough.”

I just about tripped over my own feet. I knew that having babies was mostly why people got married and I had thought I might want one, but right away?

“You want me to have a baby?” I ventured.

“Of course.” Charles looked at me in surprise. “I want a son as soon as possible. I’m assuming you have no objections?” His eyebrows were raised.

“Oh no!” I said hastily. “I would…I would love a baby. Of course I would! I just didn’t know that you wanted me to have one right away.”

“No time like the present,” Charles said flippantly, and squeezed my hand until I smiled at him.

We had roast chicken and vegetables for dinner. I did my best with the cooking, but the unfamiliar stove seemed to heat in an entirely different way to what I was used to, and instead of being juicy and succulent the meat was dry and the vegetables were mushy when I finally served them.

“I’m sorry,” I said anxiously. “It’s not very good. I tried, but I’m not used to this oven. I made gravy…it might help.”

“You’ll do better next time,” Charles said, and whether it was an order or encouragement I couldn’t be sure.

I cleaned up and did the dishes after dinner, as Charles smoked on the front porch. I felt so stupid for it, but I already missed my mother. I wished she was here with me, helping with the dishes and nattering on about all the gossip she would have heard at church in the morning. I even wished for the way she would no doubt have scolded me about doing such a disgraceful job on roasting the chicken! As I thought about the afternoon and evening and then days ahead of me, wondering what I would do to fill them, I wished myself back home, with my familiar chores on the farm and in the house. I wished for Mother’s bossiness, for my father’s solid presence, for Melanie and Amos and their babies in the house across the fields, who would always welcome a visitor.

When the kitchen was neat as a pin, I hesitated and then walked uncertainly out to the front porch. Charles was relaxing in the ugly old armchair, the end of his pipe glowing as he contemplated the street. The smell of the tobacco made me think of Father and Amos smoking on the porch of an evening as they talked, and another surge of homesickness washed through me.

“I thought we might go for a walk this afternoon,” Charles suggested. “You’ll need to start doing the marketing so you can buy what you need for cooking, so I thought perhaps I should show you where I usually shop.”

“Oh, that would be good, thank you.” I sat down on the porch step and said a little uncertainly, “I would like it if…is there a library? I’d like to be able to borrow some books.”

“Certainly I can show you the library.” Charles laid his pipe down on the windowsill behind him and rose to his feet. “You’ll find your way around in time, but I thought giving you a few landmarks might start you off.”

I readily agreed. The two of us set off for my first walk around the city, and I forgot my homesickness in the face of so much that was new and interesting. I couldn’t contain my delight as we passed so many different kinds of houses and beautiful little gardens and unexpected surprises. I wished I had brought my sketchbook with me and I promised myself that I would go on a drawing expedition as soon as possible. Charles showed me where he usually shopped, and we found the library and some public gardens. I petted a stray dog and picked some wildflowers growing in an empty lot while Charles watched me indulgently. On the way home he took me by the Gregory’s house, where the ladies’ group meeting would be held later in the week, so that I’d be familiar with the way there as well.

I was much more relaxed once we reached home, and I hummed happily as I arranged my wildflowers in a vase that had been given to us as a wedding present. I thought they made a nice touch on the sitting room mantelpiece, bringing a bright splash of colour to the room. I gave Charles leftover chicken with some biscuits and gravy for supper, and made a rice pudding that was far more successful than the chicken had been. Charles ate two helpings, and complimented me several times, which made me feel so happy. Maybe I could do this after all.

He watched me do the cleaning up and the dishes and then, instead of going out to the porch with his pipe, he stood up and touched my face. “Come to bed,” he said quietly. “It’s been a long day, and I have to be at the office early tomorrow.” He kissed my forehead and looked directly at my eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. “I think we need to get to work on making that baby.”

I blushed furiously, but willingly enough I followed him to bed, and the sun came down on my first day as a married woman.

* * *

 

We didn’t make a baby, not then, but it didn’t seem to matter very much. Nothing mattered very much that first month, as the warm summer days slipped by and Charles and I settled in together.

I kept house as best I could, and Charles was tolerant of my mistakes as I learned the best ways to plan and shop and cook for us. I cleaned the house and worked in the tiny garden, making plans for the changes I would like to make. There wasn’t too much really, Charles had done a good job and I realised very quickly that he didn’t like me questioning his judgement on things. But I made sure to keep fresh flowers in the house and added small things to make the house a little warmer, such as a good rug in the living room and a series of paintings on the hallway wall, and Charles had to admit that he liked what I’d done.

One day I went with him to his office and the factory behind it where the furniture was made, and we chose some new pieces for the upstairs rooms. Charles selected a desk and bookcases and a cabinet for his office, and I chose a chair, a small armoire and a low bookcase for the other room that I had decided I would use as my own sitting and sewing room.

“And you can use all this furniture for a nursery when the time comes,” Charles told me practically, as he and the delivery man pushed it in to place after heaving it all up the stairs. “We’ll only need to add a crib.”

I smiled at him weakly. I had my period then and I knew that we wouldn’t be having a baby quite yet. I hoped it wouldn’t take too long since it was something that Charles wanted so much, but I knew that babies didn’t always come for the asking. The fifteen years my parents had been married before I was born was proof enough of that. But Charles was keen to have a son and keen to do what made babies, so I crossed my fingers that it would happen sooner rather than later.

In the meantime I had plenty of things to fill my time. Firstly there was the shopping and cooking and housework, which took up part of every day. I kept the garden immaculate, although being vastly smaller to the gardens at home it seemed like little effort, and I worked on some decorative items I wanted for the house, like the hooked rug for the bedroom and some lace trimmed curtains for the kitchen window.

I didn’t stay home all the time though. I discovered that I loved the endless surprises and fascination of walking through city streets. I loved finding unexpected spots of beauty- the flower growing up through a cracked cobblestone, the little girl with the big yellow hair bows skipping rope and singing, the elegant black cat sitting high on a stone wall and looking down at me with haughty indifference. I took my sketchbook out with me and drew anything that caught my eye, wanting to get it all down and remember everything.

The city buildings proved a wonderland for me. The enormous library with its beautiful arched windows and vaulted ceiling and thousands of books was somewhere I spent many hours. I loved walking through the department stores and small boutique shops and looking at the merchandise, imagining the gracious homes were these things would fit in. I found the art gallery and spent days there, walking around almost in a trance as I was able, for the first time, to look at some extraordinary original artworks.

I was a little lonely at first. I missed Mother and Melanie and having someone to talk and laugh with. I missed Lucy and the other girls and ladies I knew from the church group, and I felt very alone sometimes. Charles liked to have me sit with him in the evening and the two of us talked then, but he was a man and not interested in my books or my art or the little, silly things I thought about during the day.

The women’s group from the church solved that problem. Leila Gregory, the girl who had invited me the first time, was only a little older than I was and the two of us became friends almost immediately. The other women in the group ranged in age from a plump seventeen year old who had been married only two weeks longer than me to an eighty-eight year old family matriarch who knitted a sweater a week for the war orphans. I was welcomed cheerfully, and by the end of only the first meeting I attended I felt like I was starting to make a niche for myself in this new city.

* * *

 

“Esme, can you please help me take that box to the post office at the end of the meeting?” Leila asked. “We’ve filled another one already!”

“Of course I can help you,” I replied. “It’s right on my way.” I weaved in the final thread of the red and white patterned mitten I was making and borrowed Leila’s scissors to snip off the trailing of yarn. “We can add my mittens.”

“There’s no more room!” Leila laughed. “I know I promised to send off all the parcels, but I can barely keep up with the rate all you girls are making things!” Her face sobered. “Of course, it’s all so badly need over there…much as we’d like to think peace will come soon Robert says it’s unlikely to happen before the winter comes, and the orphans and refugees will need everything we can send then.”

I concentrated on folding the mittens together. I didn’t like talking about the war. Especially with Leila, whose husband wrote for the newspaper and knew everything, but always put the worst interpretation on it too. He was convinced that America would have to enter the war and believed the sooner the better, and that was something I didn’t want to believe was possible. American boys fighting and dying overseas?

I helped Leila tidy the sitting room after the other ladies had left, the two of us giggling as we ate the left over cakes and talked over the gossip of the day. I didn’t realise that my watch had stopped until we were at the post office and I heard their clock tolling the hour.

“Oh, I’m so late!” I exclaimed uneasily, shaking my wristwatch. “I must have forgotten to wind it.” I bit my lip. Charles was very particular about punctuality, and I should be at home with dinner almost done by now.

“Go now then,” Leila urged. “I can manage from here.”

I nodded and began hurrying home, trying to think what I had for dinner. There wasn’t time to make the steak and kidney pie I had planned, but there were some sausages and if I cut the vegetables up very small they’d cook quickly enough. No bread pudding, but there was leftover cake in the tin. I hoped Charles wouldn’t mind if dinner were ready a little later than normal.

He was in the sitting room, leaning against the mantel and looking down at the dead fireplace, when I burst breathlessly in through the front door.

“I’m sorry!” I said brightly. “I just lost track of time. It was my women’s group today, and I said I’d help Leila take our newest box to the post office so I was slow to leave. I’ll go and make supper now.” I turned and headed towards the kitchen.

The blow came out of nowhere. Hitting the back of my head and sending me sprawling, the shock of it took my breath away. My forehead slammed against the wall as I fell and for a moment all I could see were stars. Dazedly I looked up at Charles from where I was crouched on hands and knees on the floor.

“You don’t ‘just lose track of time’” he said coldly. “I work all day and when I get home I want my wife _here_ , making my dinner and looking out for me.”

“But…”

His hand cracked across my face with the sound of a gunshot. “No buts. I don’t want excuses. Your place is here at home Esme and you’d better get used to that and make it your priority.” His voice was like ice. “And now, since you obviously couldn’t be bothered to come home and get my dinner, I’m going out to eat.” Without another word he marched out of the kitchen and a second later I heard the front door slam.

For a long time I stayed huddled on the hallway floor. I couldn’t believe what had happened…surely this was only a terrible dream? Surely any minute now I was going to wake up and Charles would walk in and he would be as steady and serious as he always was, and there would be no hitting and no pain. But the minutes ticked by and I pressed my hand against my cheek, feeling the heat of my skin where he’d slapped me, and tried to stop myself from shivering.

It was dark when I finally rose shakily to my feet. I crept into the bedroom and peeped at myself in the mirror, my lip trembling all over again when I saw the scarlet handprint on my cheek and the swollen lump on my forehead. I flicked off the bright electric light, and in the dark took off my clothes and found my nightgown, crawling into bed at last to lay my hot face against the cool pillow.

Only then did I let myself cry.


	9. Where Loyalties Lie

I thought that Charles would come home repentant. I imagined that he had gone to the hotel and eaten, as he used to do when he was a bachelor, and I thought that given time to cool down and a good meal in his belly he would see that what he had done was unacceptable. Maybe he’d been worried when I wasn’t home and that had made him angry. He would realise that I’d only made a little mistake, and he would be horrified to think how he’d hurt me.

I thought wrong.

It was late when he came home. I heard him moving around in the kitchen and going to the outhouse, and then he came to the bedroom and flipped the light on to undress. He didn’t even look at me, and as I smelled the alcohol and looked at his stern face I was suddenly too frightened to even talk.

Darkness hid his face, but bought no relief as he climbed into bed beside me. When his hand reached out and touched my face I felt a lightening of my heart, sure that now he was trying to apologise and make me feet better. But that hope was dashed when his hand moved from my face to my chest and he pulled my nightgown open with none of his usual tenderness, grasping my breast hard enough to make me whimper. My breath hitched as he rolled heavily on top of my and pushed himself between my thighs. He wasn’t as hard as he usually was and I wondered how much he’d had to drink as he swore and used his hands on himself until he could bury himself inside me. There was nothing in it for me, and I clenched my fists and tried not to make a noise as I waited for him to finish.

Charles fell into his usual heavy, snoring sleep afterwards, but I lay awake for hours with burning eyes and a heavy weight on my heart. How could this have happened? Was this really the man I had married? He had never done anything like this before but how well did I know him, really? And if he could do this after only a month of marriage, all because I’d been _late with his dinner_ what else was he capable of?

I didn’t want to find out. Not when I was suddenly so afraid of him. Not when he had hit me with such strength and complete disregard for the harm he might do. There was no way I wanted to stay in this house, waiting for the next mistake I might make and what he might do then.

 _I’ll go home_ , I decided. _Mother and Father will know what to do. They’ll be able to help me._

I slid silently out of bed and opened the wardrobe to find a dress, praying the hinges wouldn’t squeak and give me away. I dressed in the living room and then, taking only my purse with the housekeeping money I had left, I stole from the house and ran through the silent streets to the post office.

The mail carrier was happy to take me as far as my parents’ farm. He waved away my offer of payment, saying that he would be glad of the company, as he helped me up to the front seat with a friendly smile. I smiled back, pulling my hat lower down over my forehead and hoping he wouldn’t see the swollen bruise.  

The sun rose as we jogged comfortably along, stopping frequently for him to leave letters and packages in the mailboxes that dotted the road. Every mile that passed made me feel better as I thought of being back at home, away from Charles’ frightening anger. Finally we reached the farm’s gate and I thanked the mail carrier effusively as I took the letters he had for my parents and promised to hand them over. I didn’t even pause long enough to wave to him as he moved away, but took to my heels and ran up the drive to see my mother, imagining how happy she would be to see me.

Once again, my thoughts wouldn’t match the reality.

“Esme Anne!” my mother exclaimed as I opened the kitchen door, calling out to her. “What are you doing here?” She had been doing the dishes and she snatched up a tea towel and dried her hands, looking past me out the door. “Where’s Charles?”

“He’s at his house,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’ve run away Mother…he hit me.”

My mother closed her eyes and breathed deeply, and when she spoke her words shocked me. “You can’t run away Esme. You’re a married woman now, and your place is with your husband.”

“But he hit me!” I exclaimed. “He slapped me across the face and he pushed me down and I hit my head on the wall…see?” I pulled off my hat and showed Mother the bruise on my forehead.

Mother shook her head and held up a hand. “Hush. You don’t talk to me about your husband that way.”

“But…” I looked at her in bewilderment. “Mother…I don’t…”

“You need to be a good wife Esme,” Mother said flatly. “Sometimes these things happen and I’m sorry, but you must do your best to take care of your husband and your house. That’s where you place is now, and your loyalty lies with Charles.”

Astounded at my mother’s response I fell into a kitchen chair and stared blankly at her. Was she serious? My loyalty was supposed to be with the man who had had raised his hand to me? What kind of way was that to treat a wife, someone you were supposed to love and cherish?

Mother sat down across from me and patted my hand gently. “You do see, don’t you darling? Your job is to be a good wife, and you can’t run away from that.”

“But he…” my voice faltered.

“Men can be difficult sometimes,” Mother acknowledged. “They might have too much to drink, or be having a stressful time at work, or be angry about something else…but it’s your job as a wife to manage those moods.”

By being a punching bag for a man’s anger? I couldn’t agree with my mother’s assessment, I _couldn’t._ No one should have the right to raise a hand in anger like that.

“You’ve always been a good girl Esme, and you’ve never done anything to make your father or I ashamed of you. You made a commitment to Charles and you must see it through. I know you’re young and inexperienced, but I’m sure you understand that it’s the proper course of action for you to turn your mind to being a good and loyal wife to Charles. You agree?”

I folded my arms on the table and buried my face in them, my emotions whirling. Anger and hurt and shock with my mother and Charles for what they’d done to me mingled with a deep and abiding terror that grew as I began to realise that I was on my own now.

“You just have a think about it,” Mother said, stroking my hair. “I’ll make you a nice cup of tea and you can have some breakfast, and then when your father is finished in the fields he’ll hitch up the pony and take you home.”

I didn’t answer. I kept my head down and fought back tears as my mother bustled around the kitchen, until she put the crockery on the table beside me and tapped me briskly on the shoulder.

“Come on Esme, eat up. You’ll feel much better after a good meal and some tea.”

I didn’t think I could eat, but Mother had made porridge just the way I liked it, with thick cream and brown sugar and even some dried plums mixed through it. Even in my despair my stomach growled for it. I hadn’t eaten anything last night after all, I thought to myself as I picked up the spoon and began to tuck in.

“Esme, what are you doing here?” My father came in from the fields and kissed me on the top of my head as he crossed to the stove and poured himself a mug of tea. “What’s going on?”

“Esme and Charles have had a little tiff,” Mother said hastily. “But Esme and I have talked about it and she knows she was wrong to come here and that she should have stayed at home and dealt with it herself.”

“Absolutely,” Father said, frowning at me over the mug. “Really Esme, you’re not a little girl…I’d expect better from you! You can’t just run away from your husband every time things get difficult!”

Tears shone in my eyes and I sniffled pathetically. Mother whispered to Father for a moment, before he sighed gruffly and rubbed my shoulder.

“Don’t cry. You’re still learning, and we all make mistakes. You go back and say sorry to Charles and make up whatever silly little argument the two of you had, and it’ll all blow over. Give me a little time to finish my tea and have a quick bite and I’ll take you home.”

  He didn’t have to. Father was only halfway through his mug of tea and slab of fruitcake when there was the sound of a horse and buggy in the yard and then heavy footsteps crossing the porch. Charles appeared in the doorway, his eyes flicking across me before he turned to my parents with a smile.

“I’ve come for my wife,” he said quietly.

“I was just about to bring her back to you,” Father said cheerfully. “She’s been a silly little thing and she’s sorry. Now come in man, have a drink before you head back.”

“Or will you stay for dinner?” Mother offered. “It’s no trouble at all.”

“Thank you, but no,” Charles said courteously. “I’ll have a drink of water and then Esme and I must be heading off.”

“Esme,” Mother said sharply. “Get Charles a glass of water please.”

I did, and although my hand shook enough that some water spilled over the top of the glass as I handed it to him, Charles only thanked me politely. All too quickly he drank it and rose to his feet, holding out his arm to me. “Esme? Say goodbye now, we need to be leaving.”

I nodded and kissed my parents’ cheeks, my throat too choked to speak. Father patted my shoulder again and told me to be a good girl, and Mother kissed me back and exhorted me to remember what we’d talked about. I was a wife now, after all.

Our drive back was almost silent. At one point, unable to bear it any longer, I turned to him and blurted out, “Please Charles, can we talk about…”

“At home,” he said flatly. “I will talk to you at home.”

I clasped and unclasped my hands anxiously, fidgeting and even crying a little, unable to help it, but Charles stuck to his word and said nothing to me as we drove. He left the horse at the stable and we walked down the street, and it wasn’t until we were home, with the front door shut firmly behind us, that he spoke to me.

He leaned against the doorjamb to the living room, his arms folded as he looked at me and said calmly. “You’ve disappointed me Esme.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, seeing no other choice but apology. “But you hurt me, and I was afraid…”

“Today you behaved like a child and you made me look a fool,” Charles said without inflection. “I won’t have it.”

I watched with growing horror as he leisurely unbuckled his belt and slid it out of the loops on his trousers. He folded it over and held the two ends of it in one hand, slapping the folded leather lightly against his opposite palm.

Wide eyed, I backed away until the wall behind me stopped me moving any further. “No.”

Charles didn’t seem angry, but he was implacable. “You’re my wife and it’s my duty to teach you how to behave, using any method I deem appropriate. You’ve behaved like a child and you’ll be punished like one.”

Frantically I shook my head. “But…not…please Charles. No.”

His eyes were like flint. “Yes. Now, you will come over here to me without another word, and I will teach you what happens to little girls who tell tales. Now, Esme.”

I thought about running away. I thought about screaming for help. I thought about throwing something at Charles and fighting back.

I thought about how none of it would make any difference.

Numbly, I did as I was told.


	10. A Marriage, a War, and a Goodbye (1917)

The bruises healed and the welts faded, but the damage was done. The marriage that had seemed to offer me so much began to feel like a trap, and some days were like walking through quicksand as I waited for the moment that I would slip and be consumed.

It wasn’t always like that though, and in some ways the confusion and uncertainty made it more frightening. I never knew quite what would make Charles’ eyes narrow and his fists fly. Some days he met my mistakes or failings with kind tolerance, and other days he would punish me for almost nothing. He never talked about the times he would ‘discipline’ me once they were over.

He learned to hit me where no one would see the marks. I learned to sit, poised and smiling, on a bottom that still smarted from the previous night’s touch of the the belt and pretend that nothing was amiss. He learned how to control me with only a look and a word, because I was so afraid of what he might do to me later. I learned to walk beside him with a bruised, aching arm tucked into his and a smile on my face, and sing in church as though I thought God cared that I was caught in this hell on earth.

When Charles wasn’t angry with me he could be gentle and loving, and there were sometimes long stretches of time in which peace reigned in our house and I remembered why I had thought he was so nice that I had been wiling to marry him. Sometimes, when he would hold my face and kiss me until I was dizzy and tell me that he loved me, I almost thought that I must have imagined the dark Charles with his heavy hand.

I didn’t get pregnant, despite Charles’ best efforts. Every month like clockwork I would bleed, and have to tell him that it hadn’t happened yet. There was nothing more we could do to make a baby happen, but it became another source of tension between us nonetheless.

I didn’t know if I really wanted a baby then or not. Charles wanted a son, and I wanted desperately to do anything that would make him pleased with me. At the same time I knew that a baby could do nothing to heal the ugly seam of violence that underlay our marriage. Indeed a baby, who would cry and make messes and have needs and demands, and who might even be the daughter he had no interest in, would only raise the levels of tension in the house. While I dreaded telling Charles each month that I wasn’t carrying a baby, I always felt a quick, almost painful flash of relief when I saw the first spots of blood and knew that, for another month at least, I was safe.

I wasn’t always miserable though, despite the constant unease deep in my belly when I thought of Charles. I spent time on the house, adding little touches that made me love it. I was proud of how scrupulously clean I kept it, and how much my cooking improved with practise. I kept up my walks, exploring further and further afield and continuing to draw what caught my eye. When cold winter days kept me inside I read and painted and knitted, quite happy with my own company and the cosy fire. I became very involved with the ladies’ group and our efforts for war orphans, particularly as time passed and it began to seem inevitable that America would soon deploy our own troops to Europe. We expanded our efforts from just knitting to holding bake sales and craft stalls to raise money, and coordinated with a group in England to organise shipments of things they needed but that were not readily available any longer. I was so busy that it almost came as a surprise to look around and notice the signs of spring bursting out all through the city.

My hands full of blossoms I had picked from the public gardens, I entered the house humming. I thought the flowers would look beautiful in the centre of the dining room table. _I’ll make a pie after I arrange the flowers,_ I planned. _A chicken pie and mashed potatoes and greens, and rice pudding for dessert. Charles will like that, and I can tell him everything that Leila told me Robert was saying about the war and we’ll have a nice evening._

I stopped dead in the doorway to the kitchen, the flowers dropping soundlessly from my hands.  Charles was slumped at the kitchen table, an empty glass in front of him and a half full whisky bottle to hand.

“Charles?” I said faintly. “Why are you home so early? Is something wrong?”

He looked up me with bloodshot eyes and with a lurch of my heart I wondered how long he’d been sitting here drinking. It was always worse when he’d been drinking.

“Yes,” he said bluntly, pouring out another half glass and throwing it back. “They’ve closed the plant and I’m out of a job.”

I dropped in to the chair across from him and looked at him in astonishment. “But…it’s so sudden! Why?”

“It’s not that sudden,” Charles said, staring at his glass. “I didn’t want to worry you, but it’s been a long time coming. Profits are down, and with the uncertainty of what America’s involvement in the war might mean, the owners don’t want to take a chance on things improving. They’re getting out now while they’ve still got something left, and they’ve let everyone who worked for them go.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, tentatively touching the back of his hand. “You were a good employee Charles. You know it wasn’t anything to do you with you.”

Charles didn’t answer, pouring another glass with a slightly unsteady hand and continuing to look morosely at the table in front of him.

“What will we do?” I asked after a long silence. “Are there savings?”

I knew nothing of our financial situation. Charles gave me an allowance for the household groceries and I managed as best I could with that. If I wanted extra money I would ask, and Charles would usually give it once he knew what it was for. Whatever his other faults, he was not stingy. But he kept the household expenses record and paid the bills, and I didn’t have any access to or knowledge about the bank account and what it contained.

“There are some savings,” Charles muttered. “Not much. This last year…the wedding, the house, you…it’s been costly.”

 _Of course it’s my fault,_ the resentful part of my brain thought angrily. _You think_ everything _is my fault._

I took a deep breath and tried to sound matter of fact when I spoke. “Well, we’ll manage. I think I can cut back on the grocery budget and save us some money that way, and I’m sure you’ll find another job right away. You’re very clever and a hard worker- another business will be glad to have you.”

Charles grunted unenthusiastically. “Business is down all over the city.”

“Well perhaps I can do something to help!” I said eagerly. “I might be able to get a job doing something…”

“No,” Charles interrupted with a scowl. “You don’t have to work. You’re my wife and you’ll stay home where you should be. You don’t need to worry yourself anyway,” he added with another gulp of whiskey. “I’ve already decided. I’m going to enlist.”

“What? Are you mad?” The words slipped out before I could think twice, and I cringed away from the black anger on Charles’ face.

“Well, that’s a good response from my wife,” he said aggressively. “I put myself on the line to earn a living for you and…”

“I was just…just worried for you!” I gasped. “The war, and the rumours of American troops going to Europe, if you enlist….you might have to go and you…you could get hurt…” I stuttered to a stop.

Charles gave me a grim smile. “Well, that’s touching Esme.” He sighed heavily, and when he spoke again he was quiet. “We’re weeks away from declaring our involvement in Europe. Looking at things realistically, once we do that the government will have to bring in conscription to meet our obligations. I might miss out on that because of my age, but then again I might not. I’m in good health, I believe in what we’re doing over in Europe, and I think it will all go better for me if I enlist now. I’m good with accounts and bookkeeping and organisation, and those are skills the army can use. There’s a good chance that I won’t end up on the front lines if it’s done this way.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered dazedly.

It had never occurred to me that Charles would decide to enlist. There had been a great deal of talk amongst our friends and church acquaintances about enlistment, but none of the married men had seemed inclined to go. At thirty four Charles was probably beyond the age for compulsory enrolment and conscription, even if it should come in, and although he had always been fascinated with the war’s progress and the politics behind it he had never expressed a desire to be a part of it.

Charles rose heavily to his feet and brought another glass to the table. Sloshing a few fingers of whiskey into the bottom of it, he pushed it across the table to me. “Drink up. You look like you’ve had a shock.”

Shakily I took the glass and swallowed, choking a little as the liquor burned my throat. I’d never drunk whiskey before, and the warmth of it curling through my stomach felt surprisingly pleasant. I took another drink, my eyes watering. “What will happen?”

“I suppose I’ll go down to the recruitment office tomorrow,” Charles said. His voice was beginning to sound slurred. “There’ll be a few months of training- not anywhere nearby. After that it depends on the situation in Europe and America’s part in it whether I’m shipped overseas or sent somewhere stateside.”

“What about me?” I said hesitantly. “What shall I do while you’re gone?”

Charles shrugged. “It’ll be all right for you. You’ll be able to go on as you are, with your women’s group and walks and things. My pay will go into the bank account and I’ll arrange for you to have access to it, and I’ll show you how to manage the bills. I’ll have my brother call on you frequently to check how you’re doing and if you need anything he can help you. I’ll have leave too, and I’ll be back then.”

I swallowed the last of the whiskey and burped, which made Charles laugh.

“You’re a good girl Esme,” he said, almost tenderly, reaching across the table to cup my face in his hand. “I’m going to miss you.”

I smiled at him, hiding my confusion. How could he be like this, tender and caring, and then at other times be so horribly brutal? It made no sense! But I held my hand over his, stroking the strong fingers that were capable of both such pleasure and such pain.

“Shall I start on supper?” I asked gently. “I was going to make chicken pie and rice pudding…I know you like that. Perhaps you could take a nap while I cook?”

“No.” Charles lurched to his feet and wrapped me in a tight hug. “Don’t worry about supper now. I’m not hungry…I don’t want food anyway. Come to bed with me now Esme, that’s what I want.”

And even though it was still afternoon, and the whiskey was making me light headed, and I knew he’d been drinking so much that it would go on forever, I kissed him and did what he wanted.

* * *

 

Charles enlisted the following day, and with the army already preparing for war things moved fast.

It was only weeks between enlistment and when he left for basic training, but they were, without doubt, the most difficult weeks of my marriage to date. There were many arrangements to be made, such as giving me access to the bank account and showing me how he kept the books at home. It wasn’t at all difficult, and I couldn’t help but feel a little put out that Charles had always made it seem like such a serious and onerous task that I couldn’t possibly get my silly little head around.

His training would only be a couple of months, but there was no guarantee about what would happen after that or how much leave he might get between training and being stationed somewhere. So Charles did what he could to prepare for a long absence, cutting and splitting enough wood to last a winter, fixing everything around the house, selling the pony so I wouldn’t have the bother of it. We visited friends so he could say his goodbyes.

The few months Charles spent in basic training were like a revelation to me. So this was what real freedom was like! No one telling me what to do, no one watching me to catch slip ups and see me make mistakes, no one telling me in a thousand different ways that I wasn’t good enough. Keeping house for only myself was bliss- I could eat what I wanted when I wanted, I could stay up late reading and sleep in the next morning if I felt like it. If I felt like singing and dancing while I dusted there was no one to make me feel foolish. Best of all was the fact that I didn’t have to be afraid. The house became my home in a way it had never been, not when every time I stepped through the door my stomach tied itself in knots because of what might be waiting for me.

 America entered the war in Europe in April. Charles finished his basic training in August, and came home on a beautiful late summer day to tell me that he had his orders and he was going to be shipped out to Europe in September.

If the time between his enlistment and his training had been difficult, the weeks we spent together between his training and deployment were almost unbearable. Charles drank constantly, and he was not a nice drunk. Instead he turned all his fear and anger on me, and he lashed out at me because he couldn’t fight back against the world. He hurt me, and all I could do was pray for it to be over.

Charles was one of many soldiers leaving on the train that September, and I was one of many wives and mothers and daughters and fathers who stood on the platform and waved our American flags. Celebrating American freedom as we sent our men across the water to fight for it again.

But amongst the sobbing, cheering masses I stood alone, ice in my heart as I watched them go, possibly the only heart that was not aching as I said goodbye. I was maybe the only person who was not wishing with everything in their heart for a soldier’s safe return.

Even as I smiled and waved my flag, I couldn’t stop the rebellious thoughts in my heart. _I hope you never come back. I hope you die._


	11. Charles Returns (1919)

He came home.

For eighteen months, with only one brief week of leave, Charles lived and fought amongst the carnage of the Great War in Europe, and in the end emerged unscathed.

Despite the guilt I felt at admitting it to myself, those eighteen months were the best months of my life. I loved my independence. I kept house for myself and took pride in my pretty home, cleaning and decorating only because it pleased me to do so. I altered my clothes into the new shorter and narrower styles because I liked them, and didn’t worry about what anyone else might say about it.

I found a kitten, a tiny grey ball of fluff, drenched and shivering in the street during a summer rainstorm and took him home because Charles wasn’t there to object. I fed him milk with an eyedropper until he was big enough to lap from a saucer and he became my constant companion at home, purring on my lap as I knitted and drew.

I was busy outside the house too. The women’s group increased our efforts to fundraise, and began making and collecting more and more donations of clothing for the widows and orphans in Europe. As the death toll for the American troops grew we also did what we could for any war widows we could in our local city too. It was sometimes sad work, but the determination and good cheer of so many of the ladies involved made it fun too and I enjoyed myself.

I did my duty by Charles too, and wrote to him regularly. In all honesty I found little to say. I rarely thought of him in his absence and certainly didn’t miss him, but I felt sorry for any man at the front and writing a letter was the very least I could do. I wrote to him about what our ladies’ group was doing, and any news of our friends, and told him about how much of his money I was saving. When I couldn’t think of any words I drew for him, pictures of our home and things throughout the city, thinking that maybe he’d like a little reminder of home. As the months went by it felt like writing to a stranger…sometimes I could barely remember what Charles looked like and my violent, unhappy marriage seemed like a distant dream.

 When the war in Europe ended it was as though the whole city erupted in celebration. There were parades and parties and festivals, and I went to several victory parties with a smile plastered across my face but a dark shadow lying across my heart at the knowledge that Charles would be coming back to me.

 _Maybe things can be different,_ I thought desperately. _Maybe the war will have changed him and maybe he won’t be so quick to lash out in anger. Maybe I can be wiser and more sensible, and manage him better. Oh, I hope it can be better!_

I had a long time to wait and worry and hope. The war ended in November 1918, but it took months for the troops to be demobilised and Charles’ company remained in Europe until March 1919.

There was no warning of his return. I came home early one evening after spending the afternoon in the library, fed up with the cold, slushy remnants of winter in the street and looking forward to spending the evening curled up by the fireside.

“I think I’ll read,” I said aloud, talking vaguely to the cat whether he was there or not, as I’d taken to doing. I kicked off my shoes in the front hallway and hung up my coat and began unwinding my scarf. “I can eat cookies for dinner…what do you think, Puss? I bought you a fish…where are you? Puss! Here kitty!” I tossed my scarf on the hall table and then, as I bent down to pick up my basket, saw the large, wet boot prints leading down the hallway to the kitchen.

I froze. Someone was in the house, and judging by the size of the boot prints it was a man. Silently I stepped backwards, keeping my eyes trained on the kitchen as I groped behind me for the door handle.

Before I could wrench it open and run there was a noise in the kitchen, heavy footfalls coming towards me, and I froze as a figure appeared in the doorway at the end of the hall.

It was Charles.

I wondered later how I’d even recognised him, so changed was he from the man who had left eighteen months before. Still wearing his army uniform he was thin to the point of gauntness, his hair cut almost to the scalp and the remaining bristles grey, his neat brown moustache gone and a reddened, crinkled burn scar running up his jawbone.

“Do I take it that cat belongs to you, then?”

“Charles,” I whispered, “Oh, _Charles_ …” Dizzy and shocked I sagged back against the door, staring at him as if at a ghost. “You’re home…oh, why didn’t you _tell_ me? I would have met you at the train station!”

_I would have been prepared for this!_

“I wasn’t sure when I would be released. I caught an early train…you’re pleased to see me then?”

“Oh, of course...I…I’m just so surprised! But…pleased, of course I am!” I stammered, before gathering myself together and moving towards Charles.

I wanted to hug him, I wanted to have a wonderful, joyful reunion with my husband, the kind of reunion that would start this new post-war life for us out with love…but it was like looking at a stranger.

I think he felt it too. Charles looked at me with sunken eyes dark with shadows, and when he reached out to touch my face his hand was shaking. “You’re looking well, Esme,” he said quietly.

“You look…so tired,” I faltered. “If I’d known you were coming I would have made everything so nice for you! I would have cooked…oh, it doesn’t matter! Come and sit down, and I’ll put the kettle on for some tea.”

Boiling the water and making the tea settled my nerves, and by the time I was placing Charles’ cup in front of him I was able to smile at him much more naturally. I didn’t even say a word as he emptied a slug of liquor from a flask into his cup.

“Cookie?” I offered him the tin, glad now that I’d indulged myself and made a double batch of the rich chocolate chip cookies and not taken them all to the women’s group like I had planned.

“Thank you.” Charles took a cookie and tried to smile at me. “I missed your cooking.”

The two of us sat in silence for a few moments. I drank my tea and ate three cookies out of sheer nervousness while Charles took one bite and then crumbled the rest of the cookie in between his fingers. This was worse than our wedding night.

 “Would you like some fish for supper?” I asked finally, desperate to break the silence. I’d bought the haddock intending to feed it to the cat over the following few days, but Charles would be appalled at what he would no doubt see as waste. “I can do some haddock, and there are potatoes and carrots too.”

“Whatever you like,” Charles said indifferently. Finished with his tea now, he drank straight from his flask and the scent of the alcohol in the air burned my nostrils.

I hurried to cook some dinner, frying the fish and boiling and mashing the potatoes. The cat came and twined himself around my legs, miaowing indignantly when I didn’t give him scraps while I was cooking like I usually did. Eventually I gave him a saucer of milk, which he lapped at grudgingly, before turning his back on me and washing his paws by the stove.

I was surprised Charles didn’t mention the cat, but he actually spoke very little while we ate. I chattered on uneasily, telling him about everything that I’d been doing, but his responses were monosyllabic and eventually I fell silent. I ate the last part of my meal and cleaned the kitchen in silence.

“Let’s go to bed,” Charles said abruptly, rising from the empty table.

“I’ll just…finish tidying up,” I whispered, relieved when Charles only nodded at me and disappeared into the bedroom.

I crouched down by the fire, stroking the cat and trying to calm myself. I realised with a touch of despair that I didn’t want to go into the bedroom and give my body to Charles. After spending a year and a half living only for myself, I had grown used to making my own decisions and being in control and I was almost surprised at how resistant I was to the idea of having to give that up. I did not want to be naked and vulnerable with a man who felt like a stranger, simply because he was my husband and he believed it was owed to him.

I bit my lip. It was all well and good to _think_ these things, but the reality of the situation was quite different. Charles was waiting, and he had never looked kindly on defiance before. Even as I petted my cat and warmed myself by the flames I heard his impatient shout.

“Esme!”

“Coming!” I stopped hesitantly in the bedroom door, looking at where Charles sat on the edge of the bed wearing only his shorts. “Oh, you’re so thin!” I exclaimed without thinking.

Charles looked at me coldly, “It was a war Esme, not a health retreat. I may be thin, but at least I am alive. We have no room to complain.”

“Of course,” I said humbly. “I’m sorry. And I can get right on to the cooking tomorrow and make all your favourite things so that you can rest and eat and built up your strength.” Uneasily I turned my back on him and began undressing. Charles said nothing until I reached for my nightgown.

“Leave it off,” he ordered roughly. “Come here.”

I shivered at the coldness in his voice but did as I was told, and for the first time in a year I went to bed and lay with my husband.

I woke early the next morning and found myself alone in the bed. Charles’ side was stone cold and as I slid out of bed and dressed hastily, I wondered what he was doing. He had never been a particularly early riser before.

He was in the kitchen, seated at the kitchen table and sipping slowly at a cup of tea. The room smelled overwhelmingly of tobacco and in front of Charles was a saucer filled with the crushed ends of cigarettes. Charles had always smoked a pipe in the evenings and disliked cigarettes, and had never smoked in the house at all, but I didn’t mention it as I pushed open the window a little and filled the kettle and put it on to boil.

“Eggs for breakfast?” I asked lightly. “I’ll scramble some up with some toast. How did you sleep?”

“I didn’t really,” Charles muttered, rising to his feet. “The bed was too soft…I’m not used to it any longer.”

I couldn’t help noticing how the civilian clothes he was wearing sagged around his frame, and I threw the egg I’d been saving for myself into his scramble. Some eggs and toast and butter, and I’d go out immediately after breakfast and buy everything I needed for a roast dinner…

“It will just take some time,” I said softly. “You’ve been gone a long time.”

“Yes. I see you’ve made some changes.”

Charles’ voice was flat and it was not clear whether I had his approval or not. “Just a few little things,” I said cautiously. “I liked to have things to do to occupy my time.”

I served Charles the scrambled eggs on toast and sat across from him, eating some toast with jam and watching him eat. “What do you think you will do now?” I asked hesitantly once he was finished. Having lost his job before he enlisted, Charles didn’t even have a former employer to go back to and ask for work.

He shrugged. “I thought I’d go out today and look into the employment situation. There are some associates I can look up, and if they’re still here they may have something for me or be able to help me find something. I’ll look in the newspaper employment section too.”

“I can ask Leila if Robert can suggest anything,” I said eagerly. “He still works for the paper and he knows everyone in town…”

“I don’t want you discussing our private business with your friends,” Charles said sharply. “If I want Robert Gregory’s help I’ll ask him myself. You should be old enough to know better about gossiping with your friends about what doesn’t concern them!”

But _you_ were the one who was talking about asking acquaintances for help! I thought rebelliously. I was only trying to help, and Robert _does_ know everything that goes on in town and I’m sure he’d be happy to help!

 “I’ll have a light lunch in town and I’ll be home for dinner this evening,” Charles informed me as he rose from the table. “Please have it ready promptly.”

With a sigh I collected my basket and trotted along to the shops to buy what I needed. I took a detour by the Gregory’s house on the way home to tell Leila what was happening and explain that I didn’t think I’d be able to come by the sewing bee in the afternoon.

“Charles came home,” I told her flatly, unable to find any less shocking way to break the news. “He was there when I came home yesterday afternoon.”

Leila clapped her hands together. “Oh Esme, you must be so happy that he’s safe home at last! Of course you want to spend time with him! The committee will manage just fine without you for a little while.”

I nodded and pretended to look thrilled. “It’s wonderful, of course. But it’s also…it’s a little difficult, Leila.” I bit my lip. “He and I…” My voice trailed off.

Leila’s face turned sympathetic and she gently patted my hand. “It’s been a very long time. The two of you need time to get to know each other all over again, and then it will all be like it was and you can forget this horrible separation.”

_But I don’t want it to be like it was before! That’s what I’m afraid of!_

“He’s out looking for work,” I said aloud, adding hastily as I remembered his orders, “But don’t say anything…he doesn’t want me talking about our private business.”

“I understand.” Leila pursed her lips up thoughtfully. “I’ll speak to Robert. If he knows of anything he can find a way to tell Charles without you and I seeming to be involved at all.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. The familiar knot of tension, absent for so long while Charles was gone, had lodged itself firmly in my stomach. I knew that an unemployed Charles would be next to impossible to deal with, and my back flinched at the thought of what that would mean for me.

I almost ran home after speaking with Leila and set to work making the roast. I was a much more confident cook after a few years of marriage and soon the room was full of good smells. I was surprised that the cat didn’t come stalking in, demanding snacks as he usually did, but I put some offcuts of the meat aside for him to eat later.

Charles came home as the meat was resting, and he sat at the table and tersely answered my bright enquiries about his day. Apparently the employment situation, at first glance, was not as promising as he had hoped and my stomach sank at that news. I hoped fervently that he was just being pessimistic and something would open up for him soon.

He smoked moodily at the table as I cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes. I hated the tobacco smoke drifting around the kitchen, but I held my tongue. _It’s a time of adjustment_ , I reminded myself. _Just take it easy Esme, let him get used to being back…_

“Puss!” I called at the back door, tapping the metal dish I fed him out of against the doorframe. “Here, kitty kitty kitty…where are you Puss? Puss!”

“Don’t bother calling the cat,” Charles said quietly at my shoulder, making me jump. “He won’t come.”

I whirled around. “What do you mean? He’s a good cat, he _always_ comes home…”

“We don’t need a cat,” Charles said flatly, and my heart pounded at the chilling look in his eyes. “He won’t be in my house anymore.”

Tears blurring my eyes I dropped the dish and pushed past Charles, fleeing into my little sitting room upstairs where I huddled in my armchair and sobbed. _Oh Puss, oh my sweet grey cat, I’m sorry…_

I didn’t _know_ what Charles had done with the cat. It was a question I would never, ever ask him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – And please don’t ask ME what he did to the cat either, because it was one thing I just didn’t want to think too hard about it! So really, take your pick depending on how much humanity you think Charles has left after the war- did he kill the cat, rehome it, or just take it far away and dump it?  
> I have to deviate from the timeline given in the Guide (which is what I’ve been using) for this part of Esme’s story, simply because it’s impossible. Charles returns from the war in 1919, Esme is supposed to get pregnant and then leave him and pretend to be a war widow, giving birth and then throwing herself off a cliff to become a vampire in 1921. Considering Charles’ return date (and I kept him in Europe as long as I could! The war ended in 1918 so he would have been one of the last US soldiers to be demobbed as it is!) and the forty weeks it takes to grow a baby, that story just doesn’t work. So I’ve tweaked it a bit here.   
> Anyway, thank you to everyone reading and commenting! I am totally loving Esme during this story, and I want everyone else to love her too! She’s definitely one of the most underrated Cullens I think, and I’m really enjoying looking at her in more depth here.


	12. The Breaking Point (1921)

A year passed. Summer, autumn and then winter, the Christmas season coming upon us quickly. The streets were decorated and there were carol singers and an air of festivity everywhere I went. It had always been one of my favourites times of year, but Charles’ return had sucked all the joy out of my life and even Christmas failed to raise my spirits. Then it was New Year, and I was looking down the barrel of another year and wondering bleakly how I was to survive it.

I was frightened. Charles temper was on a hair trigger, and I lived every moment in dread of what would happen next time I roused his anger. He had always used physical violence to punish me, but before the war he had always been in control of his actions. The same could not be said anymore.

I tried to be an understanding wife. I could only imagine the horrors of what he would have seen and done during wartime, and I knew that easing back into a peacetime world would be difficult for him. He often woke with nightmares and didn’t go back to sleep, instead smoking the rest of the night away as he sat up. He drank heavily too, going out with fellow soldiers he’d met and new friends he’d made at his new job and spending hours in hotels and bars. Charles had never held his liquor well.

I tried to be quiet and supportive and keep my faith that it would improve. But Charles kept drinking and the violence increased, and I began to feel desperate.

I wished fiercely that I had saved some money of my own when I had had the chance, but Charles had taken back all control of our finances and I had only the money he gave me for housekeeping. As he drank more this allowance became less, and there were weeks that it was a struggle to provide three meals for every day. With no money, and no one to turn to for help, I began to feel more alone and trapped than ever.

One night I lay awake in bed beside Charles, listening to him snoring. I didn’t move for fear of waking him, even though several parts of my body throbbed in pain. Tears leaked silently from my eyes and slipped down my cheeks as I tried, once again, to see my way out of this terrible situation. I had tried and tried to make it better, but Charles was getting worse and I had begun to face the sickening truth that his violent rages might take my life one day.

I slept, and for the first time in years I dreamed of the doctor. The golden eyes and the honeyed voice that had offered such steady comfort for me during those long ago days in hospital floated through my dreams and I woke with tears streaking my cheeks, because he had been my ideal and my life had fallen so far short of that.

Charles side of the bed was already empty. This wasn’t unusual, as with his erratic sleep patterns he often rose early when he couldn’t sleep, but I was glad for a moment of privacy as I pushed away my memories of the kind doctor and dried my tears, steeling myself to face another day. But as I sat up and took a deep breath my stomach roiled, and nothing was more urgent than getting out of bed and to the outhouse immediately.

I made it out of the bedroom, but as I raced into the kitchen from the hall I tripped over the flagstone and fell hard on to my knees. Then the scent of stale tobacco that hung over the kitchen hit me and I could do nothing as my stomach heaved and I gagged and choked on the vomit.

“Esme, goddamn it all to hell!”

My senses whirled. Spots danced in front of my eyes as my stomach heaved again, and I cowered under Charles’ barrage of furious shouts.

“I can’t _help_ it!” I coughed, staggering to my feet. “I’m _sick…_ ” And I pushed out blindly to get Charles out of my way.

I think I struck him. I was never sure though, because the next few moments were chaos as his hands wrapped around my neck and his fingers squeezed convulsively. I clawed frantically at his hands as they cut off my breath, trying desperately to prise his fingers loose as I fought for air. His enraged, screaming face only inches from mine, Charles shook me like a rag doll, and I could feel my eyes bulge with terror as my vision began to fade. I used all of my remaining strength to hit out at him, but it wasn’t enough and a roaring, rushing noise filled my ears as blackness swirled around me and I passed out.

 

* * *

 

I was alone when I woke. My damp, sticky cheek was pressed against the linoleum floor and the smells of tobacco and vomit mingled sickeningly in my nostrils. Whimpering, I crawled across the kitchen floor and pushed through the door, gulping in the fresh air in the cobbled rear yard. After a moment I rose shakily to my feet and went across to the old pump by the stable, running the ice cold water over my hands and splashing it over my face before I rinsed my mouth.

My throat burned. Every breath felt like someone was dragging sandpaper across it, and every swallow was agony.

I sank back down onto the cold stones of the yard, folding my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around my knees. It was only then, as the sensitive flesh of my breasts protested at being crushed by my legs, that I put the pieces together and felt the whole world tremble.

I’m having a baby.

_He could have killed me._

I shuddered as I accepted the truth of it. Charles could have killed me. The war had taken an already violent man and broken whatever it was he had in him that had restrained him, and now he was back with me and nothing I could do would stop him.

Perhaps it wasn’t entirely his fault, after what had happened to him in the war, but in the end it didn’t matter. I wasn’t safe here, a _baby_ wouldn’t be safe here, and no matter what vows I had made to him or what everyone else would think of me for doing it, I had to escape. I would not accept that level of violence from him, and I would never let my child be subjected to it.

I forced myself to swallow the rising nausea despite the pain in my throat and then slipped inside. Ignoring the mess in the kitchen I went to my room and dressed, as quickly as I could manage it with fingers that trembled with fear. Around me the house was silent, and I trembled when I thought about Charles returning and finding me still here. There was no time for crying. I had to act quickly.

My reflection in the mirror clearly showed the marks of what Charles had done, my neck encircled by bruises, the imprint of his hands clear in the bruised, swollen flesh. Shuddering I found a silk scarf and arranged it around my throat so that no one would see, adding my hat with the matching band. I looked pretty. No one would ever know, as I walked quickly but elegantly through streets, that only an hour before I had been on the kitchen floor as my husband choked the life out of me.

I took my purse. I left my wedding ring and the elaborate pearl and diamond flower engagement ring in the centre of the kitchen table, where Charles would be sure to see them.

With no time to plan, I realised that my options were very limited. All I could think of was that I had to get away, get as far away as I could, before Charles realised I was gone and came to find me. The quickest way out of town was by train, but to do that I would need far more money than the few pathetic coins I had in my purse. There was only one person I could think of that I trusted enough to go to, and so I made my way through the streets to my friend Leila’s house, approaching it from the alleyway at the rear of the property.

I didn’t want her husband Robert to see me. He was a friend of Charles’, and I didn’t know if he would support what I was doing. In truth I was taking a chance that Leila would be able and willing to help me without telling him, at least at first, but I could think of no one else. Making sure that no one was at the windows overlooking the rear garden, I slipped through the back gate and hurried to the kitchen door.

Their housekeeper, Edith, was cooking breakfast and she jumped with a start when I knocked. “Oh Mrs Evenson!” she exclaimed. “You gave me a shock! What are you doing here so early?”

“I need to see Leila,” I whispered, my voice an almost unrecognisable rasp from my damaged throat. “But I don’t want Robert to know I’m here…it’s very important Edith.”

Edith hesitated, and then pushed the frypan off the heat and wiped her hands briskly on a dishcloth. “Of course Mrs Evenson. I’ll go and call Mrs Gregory down immediately.”

She disappeared, and a moment later Leila came hurrying into the kitchen. She was dressed but hadn’t done her hair, and for a moment all I could see was the long chestnut waves down her back. I had had no idea it was so long.

“Esme!” Leila came over and took my hands, looking at me in obvious concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help,” I whispered. I didn’t know how to even begin telling her what had been happening in my marriage, so I hesitantly unwound the scarf I’d wrapped around my neck so she could see.

Leila took in the bruises and her face darkened. “Charles?” she asked tightly.

I nodded, tears brimming in my eyes. “He’s always been…he gets angry. I’ve tried Leila, but I can’t anymore…he choked me this morning until I passed out and I’m scared. I have to get away.”

“Oh Esme, my darling!” Leila took my into her arms, and for a moment I let myself relax, knowing that my friend truly cared and would help me. “I wish I had known!”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t tell you. I told my parents once, a long time ago, and they said it was just what happened and I had to be a good wife, and learn to _manage_ him. Charles was so angry that I’d told anyone that I never dared to even think about it again.”

Leila’s eyes are blazing. “Oh _Esme._ It’s absolutely _not_ just something that you should have to endure! I’ve been working with Robert on some articles for the paper about the women’s movement and voting rights and all kinds of things that…but of course that’s not important right now. What’s important is that we get you somewhere safe.”

“I have a cousin in Wisconsin,” I said, sniffling and wiping my eyes. “I think she would take me in until I can decide what I’m going to do. I can catch a train there, but I don’t have the money for the fare.” Mortified to be begging for money I cast my eyes down. “If you could lend it, I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

“Of course I will! Don’t give it another thought,” Leila said firmly. “I’m going to go upstairs and look in the study…”

“Don’t tell Robert!” I interrupted fearfully. “He might tell Charles what I’m doing!”

Leila pursed her lips. “I can keep it secret for the time being,” she said at last. “I’ll take the money from his study and explain everything to him later. I’m sure he won’t tell Charles once he knows what’s been happening. You just wait here for the moment. Oh, and Edith? Could you please make Esme up a picnic basket? She’s going on a trip. And I think we don’t need to mention any of this to anyone else for the present, don’t you agree?”

“Of course,” Edith declared. “I’ll get right on it. I know Mrs Evenson is particularly fond of my shortbread and I just happened to make a new batch up yesterday so they can go in the basket.”

I sat down at the kitchen table and buried my face in my arms as I wept. I was overwhelmed with their kindness coming on the heels of Charles brutality, and so humiliated that I needed their help like this.

“Esme?” It was Leila, gently touching my shoulder. “I’ve got you some money. I think it will be enough for the train and then for a little while after that, if you’re careful.”

I hiccupped, wincing at the pain in my throat. “Thank you.” I took the money that Leila pressed into my hand and slipped it in to my purse. “Truly Leila, I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I hope it’s enough,” Leila said simply. “I hope you can make things work for yourself. Will you let me know when you’re settled? When you’re safe?”

I nodded. “If I can.”

Edith came over with a cardboard box tied with string. “Here you go dear, I’ve put in some cold chicken and bread and butter, as well as some apples and of course the shortbread! Good luck, and be careful.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath and began carefully arranging my scarf to hide as much of the bruising as possible. “I should get going,” I said anxiously. “I’m not sure what time the trains are, and I want to get well away as fast as possible.”

“I think that would be best,” Leila said soberly. She hugged me tightly and then kissed me on both cheeks. “Please be careful Esme. If he could do that, he may not take kindly to you leaving…I wish you luck.”

I didn’t tell her about the baby. I had a small hope that Charles would let me go, let me run and not bother following me, but if he knew I might be carrying the son he had always wanted he would follow me to the ends of the earth and never give up.

So with only the clothes on my back and the tiny little baby in my belly I left my husband and my home, and took the first train leaving Columbus.


	13. Running

I gave the cabdriver my cousin’s address and leaned against the seat back with my eyes closed in exhaustion as we jolted into movement.

 _Nearly there,_ I told myself, the words the only thing my muddled mind clung to. _Nearly there. Hold on…we’re nearly there._

I didn’t let myself wonder what I would do if my cousin Mary was unable or unwilling to help me.

My trip from Columbus to Milwaukee had been nothing less than a nightmare. Whether it was the pregnancy or my nerves the motion of the train had plunged me into an uncontrollable bout of sickness. Alighting at Indianapolis had been a relief, but plotting the next legs of my journey had been stressful. I jumped every time anyone spoke to me, convinced Charles was going to suddenly appear behind me, and spent the waiting time huddled inside the ladies’ waiting room. I was so grateful for the money Leila had been able to give me that made this journey, no matter difficult it was, possible.

At last I reached Milwaukee safely, and found a cab to take me to my cousin Mary’s house. It was night, and even if I hadn’t been swaying on my feet with exhaustion I knew I wouldn’t be able to find my way around a strange city at night. So I hailed a cab and gave the driver her address, and I hoped she could help me.

Mary was several years older than I was, but we had spent a summer together when I was eleven and she had been sent to our farm to convalesce after an illness. Despite the difference in our ages Mary and I had become friends and had continued our friendship via letters during the intervening years. She and her husband had no children and lived with her elderly mother in the house Mary had grown up in.

_Oh, please let her help me!_

“We’re here Miss. Miss?”

I blinked, not sure whether I’d fallen asleep, but the cabdriver was peering at me anxiously and I tried to smile. “Thank you,” I murmured, passing over the fare. I was glad of his hand as he helped me out and I nearly stumbled. I thanked him again and then staggered wearily up the front steps and rang the bell.

I nearly didn’t recognise Mary when she opened the door. Far older and more severe looking than the image of her I carried in my head, she frowned at me without recognition. “Yes?”

“Mary?” I whispered dazedly. “It’s me, it’s Esme…”

I didn’t hear her response, because the floor was pitching wildly and it felt like all my bones melted away as I collapsed, probably most ungracefully, onto the parquetry.

“Esme!”

I felt the cold cloth on my forehead and then there was a sharp, unpleasant smell in my nostrils and I coughed, jerking back into a consciousness and struggling to sit up.

“Just lie there for a bit,” a calm voice told me. “I want to make sure you’re not going to fall over on me again!”

“I’m okay.” I sat up on the small, hard sofa I’d been laid on. Mary was kneeling by my side with the smelling salts in her hand, and she smiled at me kindly.

“My goodness, Esme, you gave me a scare! I didn’t even know it was you, you’ve got so grown up! And then you just go and keel over right into my arms…are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded, giving her a watery smile. A man in trousers and shirtsleeves came into the room then and I stiffened, but Mary jumped up and held his arm. “Lewis, this is my cousin Esme, you remember I’ve told you about her? And Esme, this is my husband Lewis.”

“Nice to meet you Esme,” Lewis said, putting the tray he carried on the side table and giving me a glass of water.

“Drink that,” Mary ordered me. “And then I want you to tell me who did that to your neck and what you’re doing here in Milwaukee.”

My hands flew to my neck, which was bare of my scarf and no doubt had the bruises standing out in all their hideous colouring. I could feel the tears start, and I forced myself to drink some water, although between the choking and then all the vomiting on the train my throat was so swollen I could barely swallow.

“I ran away from Charles,” I said finally, feeling too weak and tired to bother with anything apart from the bald truth. “He’s always been violent, but since he came back from the war it’s been worse. He strangled me and I was scared that he was going to kill me…I couldn’t stay there. I borrowed money from a friend to get away, and I came here. I was going to ask if you would let me stay for a few days, until I can figure out what to do. I’m…I’m going to have a baby. So I have to find a job so I can take care of us.”

I didn’t mean to start crying, but I was so tired and I was just beginning to recognise the monumental task I had set myself. Start again in a strange city, find a job that could support me while I was pregnant and then somehow manage to find a way to support myself and the baby afterwards? Right then it seemed impossible, and I couldn’t stop the tears that began flowing from my eyes. Oh, what was I going to do?

“Oh Esme, of course we’ll help you!” Mary declared. “Won’t we Lewis? Mother won’t like it,” she added frankly. “I must warn you about that Esme, she’ll probably be most unpleasant to you. But she’s bedbound now, so you shan’t have to see much of her.”

I took the handkerchief Lewis offered me and wiped my eyes. “Thank you. I don’t want to impose on you, I won’t be any bother…I’ll stay only long enough to find work, I promise.”

“You look too tired to be making any decisions at all right now,” Mary said gently. “How about we put you to bed and then we can all think about it in the morning? Do you have any luggage at all?”

I shook my head. “I just had to get away…”

It didn’t matter. Mary took me to the spare room and gave me one of her own nightgowns to wear. It dragged along the floor and was so voluminous it could probably have fit two of me inside it, but as I crawled up into the feather bed I was so warm and comfortable I didn’t even care. All I cared about was sleep.

_I suppose I always did want an adventure…I just didn’t really think it would involve running away from my husband._

* * *

 

I woke late the following morning. My throat still hurt, but the hours of rest in the feather bed had done wonders. I stretched out in bed for a moment, and then jumped out to start the day.

My clothes were gone from the chair I’d left them on, but there was a neat pile of unfamiliar clothes in their place that I assumed I was supposed to put on. The blue skirt was old-fashioned and overly long, but the high neck of the pintucked white blouse hid the bruises on my neck well and I was grateful for them. I slipped on my shoes and went off in search of Mary.

No one seemed to be about, so I simply tried doors until I found my way to the kitchen.

“Esme, you’re awake!” Mary turned away from the stove, her face flushed. “How are you this morning? I’m just boiling up some sausage…”

I knew. The minute the smell of the boiling meat met my nostrils I was overcome with an unstoppable wave of nausea and only just made it to the sink before I vomited.

“Oh dear!” Mary exclaimed. “Perhaps you should sit down?”

I couldn’t stay in the kitchen. Pushing open the back door I stumbled down the steps and into the small rear yard, sitting on the timber edges of Mary’s herb garden and taking in deep gulps of the cold air. I could smell the scent of the herbs, and I reached out to crush some peppermint leaves in my fingers, the sharp smell settling my stomach a little.

Mary came out and sat beside me, carrying a steaming cup of tea and a plate with a piece of plain toast on it. “Try these,” she suggested, and I gratefully took the cup of tea, warming my hands on the china.

“Thank you,” I said, after sipping some tea. “I _am_ sorry for such a revolting display!”

Mary laughed. “I’m sure you can’t help it.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe my little Esme is going to have a baby!”

I laughed shakily. “I’m not sure I believe it either. I only just realised…and it’s such terrible timing!” I sighed and then took a bite of the toast, feeling better as I chewed and swallowed, despite the pain in my throat. “But there…I can’t change the timing, and I’ve wanted a baby for a long time. I’ll just have to work a little harder, that’s all. And the two of us will be _much_ better off without Charles.” I shuddered.

Mary smiled at me. “I think you’re being very brave.”

“Brave or foolhardy, I’m not really sure!”

But I knew I was doing the right thing. The thought of exposing an innocent child to Charles’ rages was abhorrent. Even if he never raised a hand to the child I knew that the atmosphere of tension and fear that pervaded our home would be no way for a child to grow up. Better the baby just had me, a mother who loved it and would work to give it everything it needed, than a father it had to be afraid of.

“I’ve been thinking about finding you a job,” Mary said to me, her eyes sparkling. “I know you used to think about being a teacher- do you think you would still be interested in that?”

I nearly choked on my toast. “Of course!”

“Excellent.” Mary smiled in satisfaction. “There was an advertisement in the newspaper this morning for a teacher for an infant class at a school in Ashland. I think you’d be just what they want. We could write to them today.”

I could see it right away, a class of small boys and girls and me a real teacher, listening to reading lessons and writing on the chalkboard. I was surprised at the sudden leap in my heart at the thought of my long ago ambitions finally being realised.

“Mary, I would love it! But…what about the baby?” I said, my spirits falling. “I won’t have a husband either, and I’m not sure that they’ll allow an unmarried mother to be a teacher at their school.”

Mary pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t usually advocate lying, but I think the circumstances warrant it in this case. Esme, you need to pretend to be a widow. It’s quite respectable for a widow woman to need to make a living.”

“I have a marriage certificate,” I said reluctantly. In my brief fantasy of teaching I had already thought of the children calling me Miss Platt, but if continuing to call myself Mrs Evenson made things easier than that’s what I’d have to do. “I left my wedding ring behind, but I can easily find another one,” I went on, the plot filling itself in in my mind. “I could say that he died of the Spanish flu…it’s still active and he was a soldier and it’s still quite prevalent among the army.”

I did feel a stab of guilt at this casual discussion of my husband’s fake death. It sounded so heartless! But as I swallowed and the bruises made my throat throb, I thought that Charles was really quite heartless himself. Besides, I had to find a job to take care of the baby. Nothing was more important than that. Having to bend the truth a little to make that happen was just a little white lie, and no harm was done.

Mary bought me out some notepaper and a pen, and I drafted an application letter right away, sitting out in the cold garden. I hoped it sounded professional enough and that the school board would give me a chance! I was so anxious not to waste any time that as soon as we had finished lunch I took my letter and walked to the post office to post it right away.

I could hear the shouting before I saw him, and my heart froze at just the sound of it. Charles. Somehow he knew, and he had followed me here.

I ducked into Mary’s neighbour’s yard and hid behind a bushy shrub, my breath coming in short, panting gasps. What was he doing here?

“I know she’s here!” Charles had lowered his voice, but he sounded furious. “Esme is my wife, and she belongs at home with me. I must insist…”

“She’s not here.” Mary’s voice was calm and steady. “Really Mr Evenson, I don’t know what has happened between you and my cousin but she is not in my home and I would appreciate it if you would leave. I don’t look kindly on being accosted at my own front door.”

“And I don’t look kindly on people who assist my wife with this silly business of running away,” Charles retorted. “She has responsibilities at home, and that’s where she should be.”

Mary’s voice was icy. “Perhaps you should look at why she might have run away. Now leave my property Mr Evenson, before I call the police.”

I shrank back into the leaves as Charles stormed down the road, waiting until he was sure to have gone completely before I raced as quickly as I could back to Mary’s house.

“Esme!” She was pacing the front hall and nearly threw herself at me. “Thank goodness! Charles was here, and I was terrified that you’d run into him on the street!”

“I saw him!” I gasped. “Oh, Mary! He was here…how did he follow me?”

“I don’t know. He knows I’m your cousin, so perhaps he just guessed that you’d come here. You’ll have to keep inside where he can’t get to you, and we’ll just have to pray that you are accepted for the job in Ashland. You’ve no family there so he will have no reason to look for you there,” Mary said grimly.

I did pray, and for once my prayers were answered. Two days later I had a letter from the school board of the Ashland school. They were desperate for a teacher, and were willing to take me on a month’s trial basis. There was a lady who lived near the school and had offered to take me as a boarder.

 _Oh little baby, look at us!_ I had a job and a place to stay…it was all falling into place.

 


	14. Making a Life

The trip to Ashland was long and tiring, and I was relieved when I was finally alighting from the cab at the address I’d been given. It was a tall, narrow house painted a dusky pink with blue trim. I’d never seen anything quite like it.

Mrs Hickman, my new landlady, opened the door to me. She was much older than I had expected, dressed in an old-fashioned silk dress with an embroidered wrap thrown over her shoulders. Not at all what most people would wear for an afternoon at home, but it somehow seemed to suit this lady as she invited me in with her gentle voice.

“Leave your case in the hall here, and we’ll go into the sitting room for a cup of tea. I know you must be tired and hungry.”

I left my case, holding the few outfits Mary had been able to find for me, in the hall and went into the sitting room, which was large but seemed small with the amount of furniture crowded into it. I had to ease sideways past an antique chess table and detour around a sofa, an occasional chair and a stuffed wolf before I could sit down in the armchair I was directed to. But beside it was a table with a lace cloth and a tray set with a silver teapot and a plate of sandwiches, and I was so grateful to see it that I would have done somersaults to reach the chair if that’s what was called for.

Mrs Hickman watched me eat with an approving eye. “You’ve got a good appetite, that’s what I like to see,” she said to me. “The last teacher who boarded with me ate like a bird- I couldn’t bear to watch her pick at her plate, and the amount of food we wasted was scandalous!”

“Do you always board the teachers then?” I asked curiously.

“Usually the single ladies,” she answered. “My husband was the head teacher at the school for thirty years, so it was easy for us. I believe you’re a widow?”

I nodded. “It was the Spanish flu. Quite recently…I’m not really used to talking about it.” I glanced down at the plain gold wedding band that I’d found at a pawn shop and was now adorning my ring finger.

Mrs Hickman sighed. “I understand. My dear Albert passed seven years ago and I still find it a hard subject to talk about. If you’ve finished your snack, I shall show you to your room. It will be you and I and Polly in the house. She’s my great-granddaughter and she lives in to help out. She’s much closer to your age and I’m sure you’ll find her good company.”

My room was at the front of the house, with a lovely big bay window overlooking the street, floral patterned wallpaper and old fashioned oak furniture. Someone had turned down the bed with the white lace spread and put a vase of greenery on the dressing table. “It’s beautiful!” I exclaimed truthfully. “I didn’t expect it to be so nice!”

Mrs Hickman laughed, and I clapped my hands over my mouth and looked at her guiltily. “Oh dear, that sounded terrible…and honestly, I didn’t care _what_ it was like! But this is such a pretty room, so thank you for having me here.”

“It will be a pleasure dear. I think the two of us are going to get along fine.”

“Oh, I hope so! But Mrs Hickman, I must tell you something,” I said impulsively. I had planned to keep the baby secret for as long as I could, but there was something about this slightly eccentric old lady that made me want to trust her. “I’m going to have a baby…I only just found out, but I’ll understand if you don’t want me to board here because of that.”

Mrs Hickman looked astonished. “Well, I didn’t expect that, not with a widow. But what a lovely gift for your husband to leave you with! You must be so happy.”

I felt tears prick my eyes. With every day that passed I loved my baby more, and in truth had come to see it as the only gift that Charles had ever really given to me. “Yes, I am…happy,” I choked.

“Well, that’s all that matters. We’ll manage with a baby when it comes, Mrs Evenson. There’s plenty of room in here for a little cradle. I had eleven children and they’ve all gone on to have children of their own…it feels like hundreds of them, I have a hard time remembering all the names! I’m sure someone will have a crib they’re not using when the time comes.”

I sat down on the hard bed with a thump, and smiled up at my new landlady in heartfelt gratitude. How lucky that I had landed on my feet like this! And Charles would never find me here in Ashland. I had decided, reluctantly, that I wouldn’t even let Leila know where I was. One day I would anonymously send the money she had given me back to her, but I couldn’t risk anyone in Columbus knowing where I was. Not when they might tell Charles. I had to make it work here, and raise my baby in a safe place where it would know only love and care.

It did seem, over the next few months, as though it would be perfect for the baby and I in Ashland. The school was a small church school, and I rapidly came to love my infant class. Teaching was hard work, but it was funny and rewarding and I enjoyed it immensely.

I was regarded a little suspiciously by the parents at first, as any stranger would be, but once I won over the children they became friendlier. By the time my belly grew and my condition became obvious they liked me, and I was quite overwhelmed by the amount of sympathy and offers of help and assistance I was given. Many of the children would come to school with little packages for me “from my mom, Mrs Evenson!”, and when I opened them later I’d find a tiny little nightgown or a knitted jacket.

I was offered a permanent position once my trial period was up. They were slightly concerned about how I would manage with a baby, and it wasn’t usual for married mothers to teach at all, but the board members were sensible people who realised that as a penniless widow I had to earn a living somehow. Mrs Hickman had assured me we would find one of her numerous grandchildren or great grandchildren to look after the baby for me once it came, and as the board had had nothing but glowing reports of my teaching they were happy to engage me permanently.

The baby grew, just as it should. I went to see the doctor that Mrs Hickman recommended and he was a lovely old gentleman who told me he was quite happy with our progress. He booked me into the hospital and gave me some pamphlets about birth and babies which I read avidly, fascinated by the baby things and slightly disturbed by the birthing! But I comforted myself with the fact that Mrs Hickman had done it eleven times, so surely it couldn’t be that bad?

* * *

“Mrs Evenson! Mrs Evenson!”

I looked up from my desk, where I was tidying everything up and making notes for the replacement teacher who would be taking over from me temporarily after the summer holiday. I was incredibly grateful to the school board that I’d been allowed to work right up to the summer break, because I’d been able to save up enough money to see me through several months after the baby was born. Mrs Hickman had already insisted that she would accept no board money from me while I wasn’t working, and so I thought I would be able to care for the baby while it was small, and come back to work after the Christmas break.

I smiled at the group of girls clustered in the classroom door. Along with teaching my infant class I had been conducting sewing lessons during the lunch hour with any of the children that wished to attend. The girls in the doorway were all the ones who came regularly to sit in a circle and learn (or practice, for those who already knew how) to do basic sewing, knitting and crochet.

“Hello girls!” I said cheerfully, struggling to stand up without grimacing as a spasm of pain crossed my back.

“We made you a present!” Little Heidi Grayson burst out. “All of us did! It was a secret, and now you can have it and it’s a…”

One of the older girls clapped a hand across her mouth, and I giggled. “That’s so thoughtful of you!”

Katie Flowers, the oldest girl in the school, stepped forward and shyly handed me a present wrapped in brown paper that the girls had decorated with inked drawings. “This is for you Mrs Evenson, for being such a good teacher and doing the sewing club with us. We hope you come back soon.”

“Thank you sweetheart.” I took the parcel and unwrapped it, taking care not to tear the paper so that I could save it. “Oh girls…” I stopped, too touched to find the words to express it.

Heidi wrapped her arms as far around my waist as she could (which was not, after all, very far) and looked up at me adoringly. “We all made it! We brought our own yarn and did our own rows and you like it, right?”

“Oh yes, I _love_ it,” I whispered. They’d given me a blanket, knitted in stripes from yarns of wildly different colours and weights and types. The girls must have begged their mothers for any odds and ends they had. I could tell that all the girls had taken a turn, as some of the rows were knitted with the perfect evenness the senior girls were capable of, and others were full of uneven, loopy stitches that indicated a very beginner knitter. But someone had crocheted a beautiful picot border around the edge to finish it and I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything so beautiful.

“You’ve been keeping this a secret for a long time!” I said, laughing again. I’d wondered what was in the calico bag that the girls had been passing around with much fuss over secrecy for the last month! “It’s beautiful, truly. I’m so touched. And I love being your teacher, so I shall be back as soon as I can after my holiday!”

I walked home slowly. Although I loved my teaching job and would miss it, I had to admit it would be nice not to have to go out to work every day, but be able to rest. The doctor had said the baby would be born in September sometime, and I was glad that I would have the summer months to rest and prepare.

The summer turned out to be everything I’d hoped for and more. Mrs Hickman told me that exercise would be good for me, and the baby, and I spent hours wandering the town and along the waterline, drawing and dreaming. I sat in the sun in the overgrown backyard at the house and grew quite brown and freckled, and I didn’t even care. I sewed for the baby, crocheting delicate lace edging for the little nightgowns and embroidering whimsical bunnies and bears and cats to make them pretty. I didn’t have much money, so I went to church jumble sales and bought good used clothes so I could reuse the fabric. I bought and tediously unpicked several old sweaters, painstakingly washing and rewinding the yarn so I could use it to knit baby sweaters and woolly diaper covers.

Mrs Hickman’s enormous extended family proved to be invaluable, as several of the women turned up on the doorstep with parcels of maternity clothes that they insisted I borrow for the duration. They said that they all just shared them around as needed, and I was one of the family now too so I must use them. One of them also came buy with a cradle, insisting that she was completely finished with childbearing and maybe getting the thing out of the house would give her husband the hint that they were _completely_ done with all that!

By the time September rolled around, I was completely done with being pregnant. I began to hope the baby would come sooner rather than later. Birthing the baby would be painful, but at least it would happen and be over with, unlike this pregnancy which seemed to be lasting forever. I was more than ready for the backache and heartburn and sore hips and breathlessness and needing to pee every half hour to be over, no matter how much giving birth hurt!

I was less sure of this when I woke up early one day to a sharp, sudden pain gripping my lower belly. I dragged myself to the bathroom and spent a long time on the toilet, but the pain continued to come at regularly spaced intervals and I realised that this wasn’t due to anything I ate, this was the baby coming.

Part of me wanted to panic, but the doctor and Mrs Hickman had both emphasised how important it was to stay calm. So instead I made myself a cup of tea and drank it, and then built up the fire in the living room and lay on the rug in front of it. I found that it helped being on my hands and knees and rocking when the pains came, and that’s what I was doing when Mrs Hickman entered the room.

“Well, this looks promising!” she said cheerfully. “How long as it been, dear?”

I glanced up at the clock. “Two…no, three hours.”

“And how far apart are the pains?”

“About six minutes.”

“Splendid! You’re doing very well. We should think about getting you to the hospital though. I’ll get Polly to run for her father and he’ll drive you.” Mrs Hickman reached down and patted my back. “Just think Esme, by tonight you’ll be holding your baby!”

It was a thought that I clung to during the next bewildering hours. Mrs Hickman helped me get dressed and picked up the little suitcase that I’d had packed for three weeks, and then Polly’s father drove me to the hospital, where I was admitted and taken to a labour room. There was another woman there when I arrived, screaming like a banshee, and I was pushed rather unceremoniously at a bed as everyone in the room rushed to her, making a fuss and then whisking her out of the room. The screaming faded into the distance.

My composure broke then. The contractions were coming quicker now and were even more painful, the screaming woman had terrified me, and here I was all alone and realising that there was only one way for that baby to come out of me and I didn’t like that idea at all! For a moment I just buried my face in a pillow and howled.

But crying about it wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I sniffled and wiped my eyes and then rocked on my hands and knees and groaned as another pain ripped across my belly and back. _Okay little baby…let’s just get through this and then I will be holding you in my arms and it will all be okay._


	15. My Baby Little One

For hours I knelt, leaning forward over a pile of pillows and rocking my hips and moaning when the pains came. I was glad that I was the only woman in the labour room and there was no one but the nurses to hear all my animal noises of pain. One of the nurses came in and asked me snottily to lie down properly and be quiet, but I couldn’t even respond. I was glad when the doctor came in to check me and told the nurse to let me do what I wanted, that I seemed to be coping well and that birth usually goes easier when the mother can do what her body tells her.

As the labour went on I felt myself sinking deeper and deeper into a state of pure, primal being. Time lost all meaning and I no longer thought, just felt as I rode the waves of pain and surrendered to my body’s instinctive knowledge.

The desire to push hit me with a burst of razor sharp clarity. I screamed for the nurse as it felt like every single muscle in my body tightened and bore down, forcing the child lower. I could no more have stopped it than I could have stopped the tides, and as the nurse told me to wait for the doctor I just looked at her like she was crazy and grunted as my body gave another enormous push.

My water broke then, shocking me with the amount and with the force it splashed out of me. It was also a horrible greenish brown, and I saw the look of concern flicker across the nurse’s face. I couldn’t ask her about it though, as my body was squeezing down on the baby and I screamed as I felt the hard, round little head push its way lower. Then there were two nurses and the doctor clustered around the end of the bed, all encouraging me, and I screamed almost continuously as I bore down through the burning pain and forced the little interloper from my body.

Then he was born, and the pain stopped.

I didn’t see him as the doctor grabbed him in a towel and rushed him out of the room. Straining for the sound of a baby’s cry I heard the doctor say that it was a boy, but there was only silence from the baby and then they were gone and I grabbed the nurse’s arm and sobbed.

“Where is he? What’s wrong? Oh please, bring him back!” Gripped by another pain in my belly I writhed and sobbed as the placenta delivered, and then I simply lay back and cried as the nurses began to clean up and no one would answer my questions.

I don’t know how long it was, before they bought him back. It felt like forever, and I was suffocating under the weight of fear when the door finally swung open and the doctor came back, holding a blanket wrapped bundle and smiling at me.

“It’s fine Mrs Evenson. Here’s your son.”

I took him with arms that shook, while tears dripped off my cheeks, but as soon as he was nestled down in the crook of my elbow the whole world was right again. I touched the round, downy cheek and the tiny snub nose and felt my heart grow, swollen to bursting with love for my baby little one. Who would have thought there could ever have been anything so perfect, so beautiful, as this little baby boy who fit in my arms like he had always belonged there?

“You did a good job,” the doctor said gently. “He weighs seven pounds exactly, which is a nice size. Ten fingers and ten toes, all correct! There was meconium in your water and he took a little while to breathe, but he seems fine now. We’ll keep an eye on him.”

I barely listened, far too enchanted with the baby. It seemed astounding to think that the big lump of my belly, with its twisting, kicking, anonymous little inhabitant had suddenly become this baby, an entirely separate and unique human being. I folded back the blanket that was tucked round his head and saw that he had a smattering of brown hair across his head, and I ran my fingers across his skull, marvelling at the softness.

I had been afraid, deep in my heart, that the baby would look like Charles and I wouldn’t be able to see past it. Indeed, right from the first moment I saw him he bore a startling resemblance to his father. But with him in my arms, that resemblance didn’t matter and for a moment I felt pity for Charles, that because of his actions he would never see this little boy that would have been the son he so wanted.

I was eventually taken to the maternity ward and given a bed in the corner, where a lovely nurse came and found me soon after and showed me how to nurse the baby. I had been nervous about that part, but when I touched my nipple to his cheek he immediately opened his mouth wide and lunged at me. I squawked in surprise, which made the nurse laugh, and then the baby clamped down on my breast, his eyelids fluttering as he suckled hard.

“Well, he looks like he knows what he’s doing,” the nurse said approvingly. “Give him a couple of minutes there and then try the other side.”

It felt very strange to be discussing my breasts so casually with a stranger, but I was so enraptured with my baby that I forgot to feel embarrassed. He fed just as enthusiastically at the second breast and then fell asleep, his jaw making an occasional move as he sucked in his sleep.

“He’s done very well,” the nurse told me when she returned. “How about we take him down to the nursery and you can get some rest? They’ll bring him back for another feed in a few hours.”

“Oh no.” I looked up at her in surprise. “He can stay right here with me! I’m not at all tired, and I don’t want him to go anywhere.” It was quite true. I was still so happy and excited about the baby that I couldn’t have slept.

The nurse hesitated. “They like the babies to be in the nursery. But you can keep him a little longer, I suppose.”

‘A little longer’ turned into the whole day, as I just held him cradled in my arms and shook my head at anyone who attempted to take him away. The nurses were disapproving and irritated with me, but it didn’t matter and in the end they just threw up their hands and let me be.

I undressed him and changed his diapers, marvelling at the miracle of him, from the whorl of hair on the top of his head right down to the tiny little toenails no bigger than a speck. He woke up and looked at me with the most enchantingly bewildered look on his face, and I talked to him and watched him respond to my voice, which he must have heard so many times from inside me as he grew. He nursed frequently as I ignored the nurses’ insistence that he should be fed only every three hourly. How could I leave my little boy to feel hungry when I had what he wanted right there? I rested my cheek against the soft downy hair and breathed in the scent of brand new baby, and I kissed his cheeks and examined all the perfect little creases in his tiny, starfish hands before he closed them tight around my finger.

One beautiful, blissful day of motherhood.

I reluctantly surrendered him to the nurses when evening came. I was exhausted by that time, and although I longed to just let myself sleep with him tucked closely against my side where I thought he belonged, I was too frightened that I’d roll on him or drop him off the bed or something equally terrible. So I allowed the nurses to take him to the nursery with the other babies, and I slept.

They brought him back to me after breakfast the next day, by which point I was wild with impatience for him. I was horrified that they had not brought him to me to be nursed during the night, although the nurse assured me cheerfully he had been fed sugar water and was fine- not that this information soothed my mind at all! I hated that these strangers were making decisions for my baby. So I was fretting and fidgety by the time the nurse carried over the little blanket wrapped bundle and placed him in my arms at last.

Something was wrong.

I knew it right away, with a gut certainty that made my heart jump and my stomach clench. Something was wrong with him.

“What’s wrong with him?” I said sharply. “There’s something wrong…I can feel it.”

The nurse gave me a patronising smile. “He’s fine, Mrs Evenson, don’t upset yourself. All new mothers worry. You just give him a cuddle and a feed and you’ll see that he’s fine.”

I didn’t say anything else. I _wanted_ her to be right. I wanted my boy to be strong and healthy. I _wanted_ the sick feeling of dread to go away and for the bubble of euphoric happiness from the previous day to return.

But it didn’t. He lay in my arms and he slept, and when I tried to nurse him he turned disinterestedly away from my nipple and slept again. His breathing was light, and as the morning went by it seemed more forced and his colour seemed paler. I put a hand on his chest and felt the way his ribs began to pull inwards as he breathed. I had tears in my eyes when I called for the nurse.

“Please, there’s something wrong with him,” I begged. “Please, look at him, he needs something…”

The nurse, the same one who had told me all new mothers worry, sighed but she came over and examined the baby. As she did her manner changed from someone doing me a favour to someone intent on a serious task.

“You say he hasn’t nursed?”

I shook my head. “Not all morning. He’s slept…I _know_ something isn’t right. His colour is different, and his breathing and…”

“I might just pop him along to the nursery and ask the sister in charge to have a look at him,” the nurse interrupted me. “The doctor will be by shortly, and if she thinks he needs it then we can have him examined.”

I didn’t want to let him go. But I kissed his little face and told him to come back soon, that I loved him and would be waiting for him, and as he disappeared with the nurse I prayed it would be true.

But time passed and they didn’t bring him back. My empty arms ached and I buried my face in the pillow and sobbed, terrified over what was happening to him. No one would tell me what was happening. I asked every nurse who came by, begging them to tell me something, _anything_ , about what was happening. But they all patted my hands and told me that he was just being looked at and I should rest. None of them met my eyes.

By mid afternoon I couldn’t bear it any more, and slid out of bed to go and find him. I walked slowly, feeling the strangeness of my post-birth body, not even sure where to go, eventually following the faint sound of a baby’s cry to the nursery.

“Mrs Evenson!” A nurse caught me at the end of the hall. “What are you doing? Come along back to your room immediately!”

“No!” I clutched the wall for support, and tried to stand firm. “Please, I can’t possibly stay in bed when I don’t know what’s happening to my baby! Someone has to tell me something, or I’m going to find him myself and check both of us out of hospital right now!”

A look of pity crossed her face, and she took my arm and said gently, “Please Mrs Evenson. Come back to bed now. Someone will come and talk to you.”

I shook my head. “No. I want someone now…you know what’s happening, I can tell. Please, just tell me he’s alright!”

But she wouldn’t say that, and my heart gave another sickening lurch that made the hallway spin. Unable to keep my feet any longer I slid helplessly down the wall and onto the cold tile floor, unconsciousness swallowing me up.

I vaguely remember smelling salts, and being put in a wheelchair and returned to my room, but the world didn’t solidify until I was sitting up in bed with a cup of tea in my shaking hand and the kind old doctor sitting at my bedside. I took a sip of tea and then carefully placed the cup back on the tray and looked at the doctor.

“Please tell me.”

“The baby is sick,” he said, honestly and quietly. “Lung fever. It moves quickly in newborns and it’s very dangerous for him. He’s in isolation right now and we are doing what we can, I promise you. But you must prepare yourself for the worst Mrs Evenson. This is a nasty disease and he is a very ill child.”

It was as though the world fell out from under my feet. He might die? _My baby_ might die? After all I had done to keep him safe, running from Charles, my job, birthing and feeding him, doing _everything_ the very best I could with him in mind, and yet he might die _now,_ just when I thought it was all safe?

I remember little of the following hours, when a thin wisp of hope fought with black despair. They would not let me see him then, and I lay in bed with my eyes shut and the image of him burned into my mind. I thought of every little detail, picturing it all in my mind as though I was looking at him, and I hoped.

My hopes, my prayers…it all came to nothing.

I knew, when the nurse came in the early evening and moved me to another room. A small room, with pictures of the Virgin Mary cradling her own newborn son on the walls and a cross hung over the door, because this was a Catholic hospital. I sat in one of the deep armchairs with a blanket over my lap and my heart like stone as I waited. It was the lovely old doctor who came at last, handing me the tiny, blanket wrapped bundle of my dying son.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he truly sounded sincere. “There’s nothing else that can be done…I thought you might like to say goodbye.”

“Yes,” I said numbly. “Of course.”

But how? How to say goodbye to this child who, in his heartbreakingly brief little life, had become the whole world to me?

All I could do was wrap him in the blanket the girls at school had knitted for him and hold him. He was close to the end when they gave him back to me, breathing in shallow little pants of air through blue lips, his pallor already that of the dead. And still he was so beautiful to me, and I kissed him and whispered in his ear, telling him again and again how much I had wanted him, how very much I had loved him.

The hospital priest came in, an elderly man whose kind eyes reminded me of the doctor. He knelt by my side and told me that he wanted to bless and baptise the baby, and I said he could because I was so desperate to do _something_ to honour my baby’s short life. I wanted something, _anything,_ that would mark his existence to someone other than me.

“I don’t have a name,” I whispered. “He needs a name.”

“Shall we name him Michael? Because it’s Michaelmas today, and it’s the archangel Michael who will carry his little soul up to heaven,” the priest offered, and I nodded. It was as good a name as any.

So I named him Michael, my little boy. I watched with disbelieving eyes as the priest anointed him with the oil and said the prayers for the dying, and I couldn’t grasp that this was happening. _Not me. Not my little baby. Please…this can’t be real._

My baby died in my arms, less than two full days after he was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – This is going to be a long author note, sorry - but it really was one of the very hardest chapters I’ve ever had to write. I’ve had babies of my own, and had that beautiful first day with a newborn when you just look at them and think that there isn’t anything else in the world as beautiful and perfect as the little bundle in your arms. It’s the most amazing feeling in the world, and for Esme to have that and then to lose it all only the very next day is heartbreaking.  
> I’ve been fortunate that all my babies were born healthy. I’ve never had to say goodbye to a child like Esme did. I have sat beside my own sick child and had to face the fact that they might die and it was devastating enough- having to take that feeling to the next step with Esme in this chapter was something really, really hard to write. I hope I did it justice in the end.  
> In the Guide it said Esme’s baby died of ‘lung fever’, which is pretty unspecific and could have been a number of things. I wanted to give Esme at least have a little bit of time to mother him, so I made him an essentially healthy baby with what at first appeared to be a very mild case of meconium aspiration, but which rapidly worsened and then led to death.  
> In brief (for anyone who is interested) meconium is the newborn baby’s first poop. While they’re in the womb babies are surrounded by amniotic fluid that, as they get bigger, they are constantly swallowing. Most of it they just pee straight back out but any little bits of matter that are in it collects in their intestines- this is called meconium and is black and sticky. Usually the baby poops this out after they’re born and there’s no issue, but sometimes a baby passes meconium while they’re still in utero and that can cause a problem. The biggest problem with it is that the baby will breathe in some amniotic fluid that has been tainted with the meconium (the amniotic fluid will then be green/brown like Esme’s was, rather than clear like it should be), and so the baby then has some junk caught in their lungs. This can make it difficult for the baby to breathe at birth, and can also lead to infection. It’s not necessarily a serious problem these days with modern medicine (although it’s still an issue sometimes), but Esme gave birth in 1921. Without antibiotics any infection that took hold in a newborn, who had no resources to fight it off, could be very rapidly lethal.  
> Since I find pregnancy and birth kind of interesting, I’ll also say that it was during the 1920’s that ‘twilight birth’ came in to vogue- when a woman was about ready to push the baby out they’d be put to sleep with anaesthetic and the doctor would pull the baby out. I think someone like Esme, young, healthy and poor, would have still birthed the more traditional way, and I also think twilight birth sounds terrifying so I didn’t want to do that to her!  
> I know this chapter was all very sad, but it might help to know that there’s only one more chapter with a horribly heartbroken Esme and then Carlisle comes along and makes her a vampire! Much more fun and romance to be had after that!


	16. Goodbye

Grief like flames, burning through me with their agony. Grief like drowning, pulling me under the waves of despair. Grief like darkness, blotting out every little particle of light and hope and happiness.

I held the white, lifeless little body until they forcibly took him from me. I didn’t want to let him go; didn’t want to think of my baby cold and still, with no one to hold him. I didn’t want to see him gone, and have to accept that he was not going to come back.

I wanted to die.

I don’t know how long I held him. An eternity…mere moments…time had no meaning. Eventually they came to take him. When I wouldn’t give him up they brought others who took my arms and forced me to hand him over to people who didn’t love him, who saw him only as a dead baby and not as the precious child of my heart. In the scuffle they dropped his blanket, the knitted one that the girls had made with such care for me, and I screamed and screamed that he needed it until I realised that he was gone, and then I picked it up and sobbed into it.

The sedated me after that. I don’t remember any more.

I woke the next day on a world gone dark. _My baby. My baby. My sweet boy, my baby little one…_

I found my clothes and dressed slowly, unable to escape the physical reminders. How could I have this slack belly with the purple marks, this bleeding from a womb that had only days ago held life, and yet have no baby to show for it? How could I have these breasts that had suddenly grown hard and tight and painfully full of milk when there was no baby to nurse from them?

I folded the knitted blanket over my arm and, taking nothing else, went in search of a nurse, who was shocked to see me out of bed.

“Mrs Evenson, please,” she said. “You must go back to bed. You must obey the rules…you need your rest.”

“I need to arrange burial for the baby,” I said flatly. “I want my son so I can see him taken care of. You must tell me how this can be arranged.”

“It’s not…” the nurse faltered.

I looked at her, my face cold. “If you don’t know, you have to find me someone who does. I’m leaving the hospital, and I must do this first.”

“I’ll fetch the doctor,” she said anxiously. “Please, just go back to your room and lie down.”

I didn’t go back to my room as she scurried away. I stood for a while, thinking nothing, and when my body began to ache I slid down the wall and sat on the tile floor. I didn’t care that I was breaking the rules…what did rules matter now?

The doctor came eventually, frowning when he saw me on the floor. But I rose without his assistance, and repeated my desire to be given my son’s body so that I could see him properly buried.

“Mrs Evenson, I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

I stared at him. “It _has_ to be possible. He exists, he is mine, and I want him.”

The doctor shook his head. “He was interred this morning. We deal with the bodies of the stillbirths and neonates here- we believe it’s easier for the mothers if they don’t have the physical remains to burden them. It’s better if they go home and get over the experience and try again. Another baby…of course, I realise you’re a widow.” The doctor flushed a little.

My entire body was shaking. “You…took him away, without asking me? You think it will be _easier?_ I won’t even have a funeral, a gravesite… _he’s gone?_ ”

“I’m very sorry for your loss Mrs Evenson. I know that you’re not feeling quite yourself right now…come along back to bed. We can give you something to help you sleep.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t say a word as I turned on my heel and walked away, the single word _gone_ drumming in my head. He was gone, my beautiful baby, my son… One day of being his mother, one day of watching him die and now there was nothing.

I walked for hours. I stopped when I felt faint and rested until the pain in my heart drove me on. I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going, all I knew was that I could not stay still. I could not go home and pick up the pieces of a life that should have had a baby in it but now held only emptiness.

My breasts burned and my belly ached. The milk leaked out, making damp patches on my clothes, and smelling the milky sweetness of it made me weep. I didn’t think about what I must look like to anyone who passed me on the street, although as the day turned to evening and I realised that I had walked to the water there was no one to see.

I found myself on the high cliffs, staring out at the dark water of a lake that seemed endless. The moon’s reflection was a glittering silver path across it, and I remembered being a child and looking at the path of the moon on the pond below the orchard. It had seemed so magical then, promising me a future full of wonder and beauty and amazement. But childhood was so far behind me, it was now and darkness was all around me, deep in my heart as I thought of my lost baby.

The blanket still smelled of him, and I buried my nose in it to breathe him in. I wondered how long it would last, this tiny scent of baby that was all I had left of him, and the thought of it being gone, of all traces of him being extinguished was too much to bear.

_Oh my little one, my Michael baby, my son._

It wasn’t a conscious decision. I didn’t think it through. I may have still done it, if I had thought, but it didn’t matter. In the darkness, with the crushing pain of grief too heavy and the edge of the cliff right there, the dark water glittering far beneath me…I jumped.

 


	17. Esme (Carlisle POV)

“Dr Cullen! Carlisle!”

I look around and see Dr Ellison hurrying towards me, a sheaf of papers in one hand and several clipboards tucked under his arm.

“You’re off now?” he asks me breathlessly.

“Yes. I’ve settled the last of the burns patients and stitched up the knife wound in the last room,” I answer.

“Good, good.” Dr Ellison looks exhausted. It has been only the two of us on duty tonight and a hotel fire in the early evening had bought in an influx of burn victims. We have been run off our feet for twelve hours now- not a problem for me, but exhausting for a human doctor.

The patients are all settled now though, and my shift is over. In truth I would prefer to stay and assist over the next few critical hours, but I can’t do anything to raise suspicions of me. It makes sense to work only as much as would be possible for a human, but I sometimes chafe under the restriction when I know how much more good I could be doing.

“Look Carlisle, I know it’s an imposition but could you do something for me before you leave? There was a suicide brought in just before, and with all the burns I haven’t been able to do anything with it. I’ve still got all these files to deal with, so if you could…” He gives me a pleading look.

I reach out and take the papers from his hand. “Of course, I’m happy to help.”

“I knew I could count on you. It’s a Jane Doe, there might be arrangements for her, I don’t know… It was something of a muddle when they brought her in. She was pulled out of the lake.” Dr Ellison is already turning away.

I take the path through the hospital’s lower floors and down into the basement morgue. I don’t mind helping, and while processing a suicide victim is never pleasant it shouldn’t take long. I’ll be home before dawn, and I wonder briefly what Edward and I might do to fill in the day.

The basement is silent and deserted. There are rumours the hospital is haunted and even the hospital personnel avoid the empty spaces at night. I have to confess that I find the supernatural stories fascinating, but I have yet to see any spectral beings despite working almost exclusively at night!

I’m thinking of ghosts as I push open the door to the morgue, bracing myself for the inevitable smell of death. The trolley on which the sheet covered body I’m looking for has been pushed carelessly off to the side, the sheet slipping to one side. It irritates me, for I believe even the dead deserve respect, and I go to arrange it neatly and then stop and stare as if I _have_ seen a ghost, because I know this face.

Esme. She’s older of course, the heart shaped face slimmed and strengthened to that of a woman and not a child, but it is unquestionably her. Esme, the young girl from Ohio with the broken leg and the unexpected and endearing fascination with art and architecture and travel, the girl whose shining eyes and eager smile have stayed with me through the years…she’s dead? And a _suicide_?

I snatch the sheet away and lay my hands on the body, realising instantly that this is all wrong. The body is ice cold, there is no pulse to be felt through the skin, but with my vampire senses I can feel it- a slow, faint, sluggish heart beat.

The clothes are wet and I tear them open, ruining them, tracing my fingers over her bones so that my sensitive fingertips might feel for breaks. There are several, but it is the cracks in her vertebrae and a certain looseness to the spine that makes me grimace and shake my head.

_A suicide…she was pulled from the lake…_

I begin to put the pieces together. She likely jumped or fell from the cliffs, which would account for the broken bones, but the iciness of the water has dropped her temperature and kept her barely alive. How she did not drown only God would know. The humans who found her were not able to detect that tiny spark of life, but with my heightened sense I am aware of so much more. She is dying, she _will_ die, but…

Esme? The girl with such a unique mind, such an extraordinarily sweet nature, such bright hopes for her future…to come to this? To die alone and unidentified in a hospital morgue?

_No. She won’t die. Not tonight._

I don’t think beyond the memory of who she was and my feeling that she deserves life, even this half-life that is all that is in my power to give her. No one knows she is here, no one will miss her, no one will ask questions…

My mind made up, I brush the long, wet strands of hair away from her neck and lower my head. My lips press against her icy skin, just a momentary hesitation…and I bite.

 It is difficult. I take what I learned from turning Edward and place the bites carefully- neck, wrists, knees – hoping that spread out like that the venom will travel more quickly and the pain might be lessened. It is almost impossible to get the venom into her in her frozen state but I do what I can and then, before she starts screaming and we are discovered, I gather her up in my arms and take her home.

Edward meets me at the door. “Carlisle… _what have you done?_ ” He enunciates each word carefully, his voice high with shock. “You…she…” He shakes his head in bewilderment.

“I know,” I say briefly, pushing past him to lay Esme on the sofa. Her clothes are soaked and muddy, her hair wet and tangled, and I automatically remove a piece of pondweed caught in a snarl. She smells of the lake, of places dark and dank.

Esme whimpers, and I know the venom is beginning to work. Edward stares down at her and shakes his head again. “Who is she? Why…I don’t understand, Carlisle.”

I am beginning to think that perhaps I don’t understand myself.

“Her name is Esme. I knew her once…some years ago now.”

Edward looks at me sharply. “You knew her?”

“She was a patient. A broken leg…” I shake my head. “Please Edward. Just…stop. I can’t explain it! But it’s done.”

He says nothing, but watches her for several long moments. Esme is crying, a soft and heartbroken sound in the otherwise silent room. She is not still, her head tossing from side to side and her hands grasping and releasing her clothes in her agitation.

“Was this what is was like when it was me?” Edward sounds uncertain.

“Somewhat,” I answer honestly. “You screamed, at the start.”

“It hurt,” Edward says tonelessly. “I remember.”

“Yes.”

I don’t elaborate. I don’t need to. Both of us know that Esme is burning, a pain beyond anything she would have ever felt in her human life.

The two of us stand in silence.

“I should change those clothes,” I realise. “She’s making the sofa damp, and the smell…”

“Don’t look at me!” Edward holds his hands up and backs away, his face so appalled I can’t help but chuckle. “I’m not undressing a lady!”

“We need some clothes for her,” I say. “Your things might fit…somewhat.”

“I’ll go into town,” Edward sighs. “I can buy some woman’s clothes, that won’t look strange at all, a seventeen year old boy buying a dress and stockings and…things.” He rolls his eyes at me and I smile weakly back at him.

“Thank you. The department store will have some things readymade, that’s probably where you should go. The salespeople can help you. She’s…small,” I wave somewhat helplessly at the woman on the sofa.

I am relieved when Edward goes, leaving me alone with the body of the woman who is in the excruciatingly painful process of leaving her human life and becoming one of us. His silent judgement feels like an impossible weight on my shoulders, when I am already not sure that I have done the right thing.

I run my hands through my hair and sigh, then turn my attention towards removing the sodden rags of clothing. I have to admit to a sense of guilt at undressing this unconscious woman. As a doctor I’m used to naked human bodies and seeing what people usually keep private, but this situation is so different. Esme doesn’t know and there is no consent, and I do not like it.

I realise, as soon as I have her naked, that this woman has had a child, and quite recently. The lake water has washed away any lingering scent of birth, or of an infant, but her body tells the story. The skin over the belly, the uterus still not quite shrunk down, the breasts so tight and full with milk… _oh Esme, what happened?_

For a long moment I do nothing, struck with sick horror that I may have just turned vampire an infant’s mother. But she had been in the water, she had been dying…where was the baby? What was an obviously post-partum woman doing at the lake in the first place? Why was there not a husband searching for his disappeared wife?

None of them are questions I can answer. Perhaps Edward can read something from her mind, or perhaps we will just have to wait for her to wake. Three days and she will rise… _what will you be then, Esme Platt?_

I take her to our never-used kitchen and wash her, removing all traces of the lake from her skin and hair. I’m gentle, although I know she is unaware of me, unaware of her surroundings. I know from my experience and that of Edward that she is lost inside the flames inside her own head, aware of nothing but the burning agony of transformation.

I have her laid out on the sofa again when Edward returns. A blanket covers her, and as she tosses her head and whimpers she clutches at it, fisting and releasing it endless as she cries.

“She had a child,” I say numbly to Edward, feeling his presence behind me although I don’t turn around. “It was very recent…there might be a baby somewhere. Can you hear anything from her?”

Edward makes a noise of horror and comes to stand beside me, tossing a parcel carelessly onto the arm of the sofa. He frowns down at her, closing his eyes briefly, and then looks at me and shakes his head.

“I can’t hear very much, and it’s not clear. There was certainly a baby, I can hear that in her thoughts, but there’s so much static…” He grimaces. “I’ve never heard this before. Maybe it’s the transformation…I don’t know. I’ll keep trying.”

I nod. What else can we do? I can’t run the risk of suspicion by asking around about her. She is wearing a wedding ring- she would have a different name now in any case.

“She was wonderful,” I say to Edward, barely aware that I’m speaking. “When I met her…she was barely more than a child really, but she was so bright and sweet. She had such a wonderful mind and an unusual eye for beauty. You know we don’t involve ourselves with humans, but she was in hospital for two weeks and wanted the company…I was happy to give it, I enjoyed spending time with her. But I said goodbye to her in the end, thinking she had such a bright future to look forward to… _what could have happened to her_?”

“I suppose we will find out, when she wakes,” Edward answers soberly. “Three days?”

“Yes.” The idea of watching Esme suffer for three more days fills me with bleak despair.

“I’m surprised you changed her,” Edward says carefully. “I didn’t know you had ever thought about it…a woman.”

I would blush if I could. “I didn’t think about it. Certainly not in that sense. I didn’t expect I would ever change anyone else, after you.” I hesitate. “You’ve been a wonderful companion Edward. All I could have asked for and more.”

“Thank you. But she _is_ a woman,” Edward persisted. “And you’re a man…”

“I didn’t change her with some kind of…relationship in mind,” I say firmly. “I changed her because I remembered how she was, because it all seemed too coincidental…oh, I don’t _know_ why I changed her, not really!” I throw up my hands in frustration. “But it wasn’t for my own ends, I assure you. You and I will take care of her during the newborn period, teach her what she needs to know, and after that it will be up to her. Perhaps she will enjoy our companionship and stay with us, or perhaps she will prefer to make her own way. We will just have to wait and see.”

Edward looks down at her, and suddenly seems very much seventeen years old and vulnerable as he says quietly, “She’ll change everything Carlisle.”

“Maybe,” I acknowledge. I glance at his troubled face. “But it may not be negative Edward. She was lovely…and I might point out that _you’re_ a man too…”

“Not that much of a man!” he says with a boyish laugh. “Oh no, Carlisle, if it comes to that she’s all yours!”

I chuckle too. “She’ll be her own person Edward. We are just here to guide, and help when she needs it.”

Edward cocks his head towards her. “The baby died,” he says abruptly. “There’s little coherence in her thoughts, but I can see it, the baby died.”

“Oh.” I feel a stab of pity for her, losing her baby so soon after birth. “Perhaps that was why she went to the lake,” I add slowly.

Edward is frowning in concentration. “This is so difficult! I have to assume it’s the transformation, because it’s not like hearing a normal mind at all. There aren’t so much thoughts as images, and great long periods of static and…and screaming.” His voice is strained. “There’s a lot of screaming.”

Without thought I smooth my hand across Esme’s forehead, brushing the tangled hair back. “You don’t have to listen to it Edward. I understand. I did this and I’ll sit with her and see it through.”

“I’ll come in and out,” Edward says. “Let me know if you need anything.”

I nod and he walks out, leaving me with Esme. She is weeping silently now, her body twitching and her hands grasping and tugging at the blanket, shifting it off her body. Feeling uncomfortable to have her naked and unaware of it I dress her in the clothes Edward has bought. I pay little attention to women’s fashions usually, but I like the brown and pink dress and think it will look well with her hair. Edward has bought stockings and underclothes and I can’t help my grin at the thought of how embarrassed he must have been. He hasn’t bought shoes and so I take the wet, muddy shoes she was wearing when she arrives and scrub them clean. I leave them on the windowsill to dry- they’ll be ready when she wakes.

Edward takes a letter to the hospital saying I have measles and cannot work. It’s a good excuse, with an infectious disease no one wants me at the hospital and no one will bother about me for the next two weeks. By then I hope things with Esme may be at least a little bit settled.

After that there is nothing to do but watch. Watch her suffer, which I know she is despite her quietness. Watch as her human shell undergoes the transformation, skin going from soft, waxen white flesh to perfect, diamond hardness. I hold her hands as they change, the roughened patches, the scar on her thumb and the burn mark on her knuckle disappearing as she takes on the flawless skin of the vampire.

Watch…and wait for the day she wakes. When we will find out what drove her to a deep lake on a dark night, and what she feels about this shadow life of immortality she has been given in exchange for her humanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – One off Carlisle POV chapter. Is it too jarring, throwing him in here, having it in his voice and a different tense? I could have kept it for an extra chapter at the end, but I thought I’d put it in here for now. Basically I wrote this because I was trying to figure out WTF Carlisle actually thought he was doing when he changed her!


	18. Awakening

I didn’t notice at first, when the burning began to lessen. I’d been suffering for a lifetime, or at least that’s what it felt like, and locked in that hell I had begun to think that I would never escape. That this would be all it was for me, burning pain and agony, and nothing else but darkness ever again.

I didn’t know if I cared.

I heard a voice sometimes, a man with tones as smooth and soft as honey. Sometimes he spoke unintelligibly. Sometimes he said my name. Sometimes he said he was sorry.

It made no difference to the pain, that voice, but I liked to hear it anyway. It comforted me to think that there was someone, somewhere, who knew I was here and hurting, and wanted me to feel better.

But then the burning did begin to ease. I could feel my hands and feel, cool and back under my control, and the fire inside seemed to contract from the outside in. Finally there were only flames licking at my throat, a parched and agonised thirst.

But I could open my eyes. So I did, slow and cautious, wary of what I might find.

I was in an unfamiliar room with plain, whitewashed walls and uncurtained windows. There was a tiled surround to the fireplace, which looked like it had never been used, and the mantelpiece was littered with objects. Practical things – a knife, a hammer, a tinder box – nothing decorative. There were two overflowing bookcases on either side of the fireplace, although several more would be needed to contain the stacks of books piled up randomly throughout the room. I was on a threadbare sofa that might have once been upholstered in a flowered fabric, although now it was nothing but a muddy blend of dull colours. Apart from the bookcases it was the only furniture in the room. Glancing down I realised I was wearing an unfamiliar dress and stockings, although the shoes were my own. Slowly, as if at any moment something might happen, I swung my legs down off the sofa and sat up.

He was standing over by the doorway. I recognised him immediately, the fair hair and the face of the archangel had not changed in the ten years since I saw him last.

“Dr Cullen,” I said, a little unsettled by the sound of my own voice. It was all so peculiar…but then, this had to be a dream. Often nothing made sense in my dreams.

He smiled at me gently. “Esme. You remember me.”

“Of course.” I swallowed hard, wishing I had a glass of water. What an uncomfortable dream this was!

“You don’t seem very surprised to see me,” he added a moment later.

I shrugged. “Strange things happen in dreams. It’s not the first time I’ve dreamed about you.”

“You think this is a dream?”

“It must be.” I rose to my feet. “I’m just not sure…I thought…the lake.” I shook my head, my thoughts in such disarray that I couldn’t sort the truth from the dream. “I can’t quite remember Dr Cullen, I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He stepped further into the room, and I took a step back as I saw the stranger in the shadows of the doorway behind him. A boy, almost a man, with rumpled reddish hair and a solemn face that held the same golden eyes as the doctor.

“I’m Edward,” the boy said to me.

I blinked in confusion. “I don’t know you. But you look like…”

“It’s the eyes,” Edward told me. He glanced across at Carlisle. “She believes she’s dreaming.”

“Can you tell us what you remember, Esme?” Dr Cullen’s voice was soft. “That would help, if we knew what you remember.”

“I’m not sure.” I looked at him blankly. “I remember when I broke my leg and you were at the hospital.”

“What about after that? That was a long time ago.”

I frowned, deep in thought. “I think…perhaps I don’t want to remember.” There were images and thoughts flashing through my head, and I began to feel frightened. No…I didn’t want to remember.

“The baby…it was a boy. Died a week ago from lung fever. She went to the lake to die. She was a teacher…the children made a blanket for the baby…no husband? I don’t know…painting…”

The boy Edward spoke rapidly, his eyes on my face, and I suddenly began to not like this dream at all.

“What are you doing?” I said sharply. “Stop it! I don’t want to remember those things!” But I couldn’t stop them, the memories, and I felt my face crumple as I thought of my little boy. “Oh! My baby!”

I sat back on the couch with a thump, staring tragically at Dr Cullen. “He did die…that’s not a dream, is it? I had him for such a short time. Oh, my poor little baby…”

“I’m sorry Esme.” Dr Cullen came and sat carefully beside me on the sofa. “I didn’t know about your baby. I’m sorry.”

“He was healthy…and then he wasn’t.” I buried my face in my hands. “I tried so hard to take care of him.”

I felt his hand touch my bowed back, a gentle touch of compassion. “I’m sure you did.”

“It just wasn’t enough,” I whispered, and I risked looking up.

Dr Cullen was there beside me and, forgetting my manners, I stared at him quite openly. I had dreamed of him several times, but not like this, not with such exquisite clarity. In fact, this clarity seemed to extend to everything- I was seeing everything is perfect detail such as I had never known.

I reached my hand out to Dr Cullen. I would never have done this in real life, but in dreams all things were possible. He sat like a statue as I traced my fingers across the planes of his face, marvelling at the perfect bone structure and astonished at the perfect smoothness of his skin. “I tried to draw you,” I told him. “After that time at the hospital. But I couldn’t do it. You were too perfect, and it always looked wrong.”

He smiled at me, and suddenly self conscious I snatched my hands back. I glanced around the room again, once more struck by how clearly and perfectly I could see everything. And the smell too, I could smell everything, all those individual scents that were beginning to make me feel dizzy.

“She’s noticing the clarity,” Edward murmured. “She can tell it’s all different.”

I stared at him, and he shifted a little uncomfortably under my gaze. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said awkwardly. “Carlisle…you’ve got to tell her.”

Dr Cullen looked deeply uncomfortable. “I’m just not sure how.”

“You mighthave spent at least _some_ time in the last three days thinking of something!” Edward said, slightly hysterically. “Is this really the sort of thing where you want to just make something up on the spot?”

I decided to interrupt this incomprehensible conversation. “Excuse me, but if it’s not too much trouble I’d appreciate a glass of water.” The burning in my throat had, if anything, increased and discomfort was rapidly becoming intense pain.

“I’m afraid water won’t soothe the burn in your throat,” Dr Cullen said gently. “This isn’t a dream Esme, but it IS a different kind of reality. There are many things in the world of which you know nothing. Supernatural things…and now you’ve become one of them.”

I looked from him to Edward and rose to my feet and backed rapidly away. Dream or not, I didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking at all!

“Esme.” Dr Cullen held up his hands in supplication. “Please, listen. You came into the morgue and I found you there. They thought you were dead, but you weren’t, not quite. I brought you here and I…I bit you. Edward and I are vampires, and I have made you one too.”

“I want to wake up,” I whispered numbly. “This isn’t happening…it’s a dream!”

“It’s not a dream,” Edward contributed. “Truly Miss...Esme. I understand how difficult it is, but look at the evidence. Your senses, your body, your thirst…you’ve just spent three days burning. You _know_ everything is different.”

I shuddered, remembering the pain and terror I had just lived through. Three days… “But I don’t understand. I don’t…oh, my throat hurts! Please, whatever else…just make it stop!”

“You need to feed,” Dr Cullen said, his voice very matter of fact. “That will help. Blood is what you need, and what you want now.”

I pushed my hands into my tangled hair, gripping my skull tightly, hoping to wake up. I couldn’t believe that this could be real…although it certainly felt real! But it had to be a dream, and if so there was nothing to do but go along with it. So I attempted to smooth my hair away from my face and looked back at Dr Cullen. “If you say so.”

 “We hunt animals,” Dr Cullen told me quietly. “Most vampires feed on humans…you will want to, when you smell their blood. Edward and I choose not to live that way, and we have both worked hard on resisting the temptation. I am not comfortable with taking human life when it can be avoided.”

I backed away even further. Was he saying he would kill me and drink my blood?

“You’re not human anymore,” Edward said. “You’re one of us.”

“It’s difficult to accept,” Dr Cullen said, watching my face carefully. “I know that and I’m sorry. Come, if we go out hunting and you feed you will feel better, more able to take it all in.”

He held out his hand, and although I didn’t take it I followed him through the door and along a dark hallway to a heavy oak door leading to the outdoors. Edward brought up the rear.

The house I’d been bought too seemed very isolated, with nothing to be seen around but forest. I stepped across the porch and stopped at the edge, feeling a sudden whirl of uncertainty as I realised how easily my body moved and how much strength and power it felt as though I held in my muscles. Then too, I could see perfectly, despite the pre-dawn darkness and I swallowed hard against the burning, trying to swallow down the fear.

_Dear God, what if this wasn’t a dream, and what they were telling me was true?_

“Come with me,” Dr Cullen said, and silently I followed him with Edward a few paces behind.

We walked fast, surprisingly fast. I was awed by the forest. I had grown up surrounded by Ohio farmland and then lived in towns – I had never seen so many trees growing to such immense heights. I listened, over the sounds of our footsteps and heard the noises of forest life, owls and tiny animals, bugs and birds beginning to wake as the sky began to lighten almost imperceptibly.

Dr Cullen stopped and turned to face me, holding out an arm so that I stopped too. “I want you to see what you can smell, Esme.”

I looked at him uncertainly for a moment, but then I breathed in, closing my eyes to focus more easily. I couldn’t believe how much I could smell! How clear it all was, how easy to separate out into the separate scents… “I can smell the trees,” I murmured. “The earth…it’s all different. Each tree, and the decomposing leaves and the earth…there’s a stream, I can smell the water, and an owl, he’s eating a mouse…and _ooooh_.” I opened my eyes and looked at him, the flames licking higher through my throat, because I had just smelled blood. “That’s what you wanted me to find? I don’t know what it is, but I want it.”

“Deer,” Dr Cullen told me quietly. “That’s right, that’s what I wanted you to smell. It’s a good meal. Good enough, anyway. Can you follow the scent at all?”

I breathed it in again, trying to isolate the scent and the direction it was coming from. “Over that way, I think,” I said uncertainly.

Dr Cullen nodded. “Well done. Try and follow it. Quietly, you don’t want to scare them.”

I breathed in again, and set off towards the source of the smell. Now I was in the lead, Dr Cullen and Edward close by on either side. It was not long before the scent strengthened and was then joined by sound- small hooves on packed earth, teeth grinding down grass, the rasp of a tongue as a doe licked her baby.

“I found them,” I whispered, almost surprised.

Dr Cullen smiled at me, his eyes bright. “Well done. Now Esme, you need to choose one and focus, and then go after it. You will be very fast – faster than they are – and you can bring it down easily. If you let your instincts take over it will be fine. Your body knows what it wants and knows how to get it.”

I didn’t even think. Hearing the heartbeats and smelling the blood as the thirst raged so intensely I _couldn’t_ think. I paused only long enough to set my sights on a particularly plump young doe and then I pounced.

 _OH Oh oh oh…_ It was _good._ With my eyes closed and my mouth buried in the neck, the fur warm and soft against my cheek, I gulped and swallowed the thick, rich blood spurting into my mouth. I drank it all, lifting the carcass and sucking hard as the heartbeat faded and the blood stopped flowing so easily, feeling the warmth and satiation spread throughout my body. _Ohhhh._

I opened my eyes and stared, horrified, down at myself. I was on my knees on the forest floor, dirt ground into the skirt of my dress, the limp body of a deer with its throat torn out still clutched in my bloodied hands. There was blood on my dress, and I could feel it cooling on my face and streaked down my neck. For a moment I didn’t know if I wanted to scream or weep.

Dr Cullen and Edward came closer and crouched down beside me, their eyes meeting my horrified gaze. “It’s okay, Esme?”

“It’s not a dream, is it?” I faltered. “You told me the truth…this is all real?”

Dr Cullen looked at me, the face of the archangel somehow made man that had haunted my dreams for so long, and he shook his head. “No,” he said, and I caught the faint note of sorrow in his voice. “It’s not a dream, and it IS real.”


	19. No Normal Anymore

I cried then, a kind of shuddery sobbing with eyes that burned but didn’t have the release of tears.

“No tears,” the boy Edward said, although I hadn’t spoken. “No tears, no sleep, no pain, no aging, no death.”

I looked up, my fist pressed against my mouth to muffle my sobbing. “No death? My baby… You could have done this to him?”

Although even as I said it, my mother heart writhed in horror at the thought of this pain for my beloved infant. And the monstrousness of drinking blood…

_But he would still be with me._

“Oh Esme,” Dr Cullen said, clearly distressed. “I’m so sorry. We couldn’t have done anything for the baby. I’m sorry about…everything.”

I didn’t like to see him unhappy, and as this realisation came to me it stopped my weeping. I looked at Edward and then stared at Dr Cullen for a minute, as I said in wonderment, “You really mean it, about not aging. You are exactly the same as you were when I was sixteen.”

_But if you don’t age…how old ARE you?_

“He’s two hundred and sixty years old, more or less,” Edward said absently.

“How are you _doing_ that?” I exclaimed, rattled by his assured answers to questions I hadn’t asked.

“Oh, I’m…it’s…” Edward stammered, running a hand through his hair and leaving it standing up in spikes all over half his head. “I don’t mean…”

“Edward’s a telepath,” Dr Cullen broke in, touching Edward lightly on the shoulder. “He can hear thoughts from your head. He’s become used to living with me, who simply takes it for granted and sometimes barely bothers to speak to him at all!” He smiled at him affectionately.

“I don’t think I like this,” I said, my voice small. “You’ve both been very kind, but this is so strange, and frightening, and…” My voice trailed away, and I unconsciously squeezed the body of the deer that was still slumped across my lap.

“Of course, you’re bound to feel strange at first,” Edward said, making a determined effort to sound cheerful. “I did, when it was me.”

“I’ll get rid of that,” Dr Cullen said, taking the deer carcass from my hand. “We’ll go back to the house and…well, you won’t want a cup of tea, but perhaps we can all sit down like we’re having morning tea and you might feel more comfortable? We can talk about it all then.” He disappeared in a blur of speed.

“What do you mean?” I asked Edward hesitantly, “About when it was you?”

Dr Cullen reappeared, minus the dead deer, and the three of us began walking back in the direction we’d come from.

“Carlisle changed me too. Three years ago it was I who woke up after the burning to learn that everything about my life had just been transformed,” Edward told me, his voice deliberately light. “I know what it’s like to have the whole world turned on its head.”

“Were you…” I struggled to find the words.

“I had Spanish flu,” Edward said with a glance at Dr Cullen. “My mother asked Carlisle to…take care of me. To make sure I lived.” He shrugged. “So here I am.”

“I said my husband died of Spanish flu,” I said absently, the memory surfacing. “But he didn’t. So you’re…”

“Seventeen,” Edward finished for me. “Or twenty- take your pick.”

We walked in silence, as I tried to absorb this. “Dr Cullen,” I asked hesitantly, “When did you…change?”

“Long ago in London,” he answered. “I’ll tell you the whole story one day. But I was turned by a vampire who left me and I woke alone. And please,” he added a little awkwardly, “Please call me Carlisle. There is no need for formality between us.”

I saw the house through the trees, and with my thirst a little slaked I was able to pay more attention. It was small and neat, and reminded me with its wide porches and square shape of the farmhouses I had been familiar with as a child. The yard around it contained the mostly dead remains of what had once been a flourishing garden, and it could have done with a coat of paint.

Dr Cullen – Carlisle – held open the door and I silently followed Edward into the hallway and through a doorway that led into a room that was brightening each moment with the rising sun. Like the room I’d woken in the windows were uncurtained, but the walls in here were papered in a tiny print, although there were water stains on the two outside walls. There was a sofa and two armchairs, none of which matched and all of which were old and threadbare, the stuffing coming out of the sofa where it looked as though it had been clawed by cats. There were bookcases lining two walls, and piles of books and papers stacked canvases and folders and boxes everywhere. Dominating the room was a large table, also covered with books and notebooks and writing implements. The only ornamentation was an enormous oil painting depicting a rural scene, the colours bright and bold and drawing my eye immediately.

I went closer to examine it, and seeing the signature I turned and gaped at Carlisle. “Van Gogh?” The colours, the brushwork…it had to be an original.

Carlisle’s face brightened. “Do you like it? It’s quite new…Edward’s not sure of it, but I think it’s brilliant. I was so lucky to find it at auction.”

My mind reeling, I sat blindly down at one of the straight backed chairs at the large table and hid my face in my hands. What was _going on_ here? Vampires, drinking blood, a house that had possibly never been swept or dusted in years, and an original Van Gogh artwork on the walls? How did this possibly all fit together?

When I raised my head some time later, Edward and Carlisle were sitting opposite me, watching curiously. They had cleared the table between us, and for a moment I looked down at the scarred wood, marked with ink spills, and thought about how many hours I had spent sitting at wooden tables and drinking tea.

“Do you have a tea service?” I asked abruptly. “Or even just a teapot?”

Carlisle and Edward exchanged glances, but it was Carlisle who spoke. “Er…I don’t believe so.”

“A tablecloth?”

Carlisle frowned. “Perhaps in the attic? Edward? Although the moths were quite bad up there the last time I climbed the ladder.”

“We have a candelabra, if you want decoration,” Edward offered helpfully. “Silver…well, it hasn’t been cleaned in some time I suppose, but it was my mother’s and she was quite fond of it so you might like it.”

I suddenly realised how ridiculous I was being, and then I couldn’t help laughing at their earnestness as the tried to help me with my silly demands.  “Oh, I’m sorry! I know I’m being unreasonable, and thank you for trying, but…oh, it’s all just wrong!” I shook my head. “Everything is wrong, and I just wanted to try and feel normal for a moment…but I suppose there is no normal anymore, is there?” I couldn’t stop the quiver in my voice.

“There’s normal for us,” Carlisle said practically. “But it’s not exactly ordinary.”

I swallowed hard. “My throat is still very uncomfortable,” I said apologetically. “Is that to be expected? Is there nothing to be done?”

“I’m sorry,” Carlisle said. “It’s part of being what we are. The blood will satisfy it for a little while, but the burn always comes back. Stronger and more painful the thirstier you are, or in the presence of human blood.”

“And you really don’t sleep? You just…do what?”

“Stay awake,” Edward said with a grin. “Do what we can to fill in the time. Hobbies, studying, hunting…Carlisle works at the hospital, obviously.”

Carlisle was tapping his fingers restlessly against the table top. “I’m sorry for asking personal questions Esme, but do you have any family? Your parents? A…husband? Anyone who will be looking for you?”

_I have a baby. I have a son, my little Michael boy…_

“No,” I shook my head, my voice sounding harsher than I intended it to. “No one. My baby is dead, my parents are dead, and my husband…he may as well be dead for all I care.” I looked away.

“You couldn’t be around them in any case,” Carlisle said, his voice very gentle. “We’ve said that you will want human blood but it’s more than that. The call of it is almost irresistible and it can drive all sense and reason from a person. It is possible to resist, but please don’t underestimate how difficult it will be. Edward and I will help you as you become accustomed to things, and until you are comfortable with your ability to resist…unless you would rather leave? We won’t keep you here against your will.”

He looked pained, and I wondered whether he actually wanted me to stay, or it was the thought that I might run away and start killing people that bothered him.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I said softly. “If you can help me NOT do that…”

Carlisle smiled at me again and, just as I had when I was a romantic sixteen year old, I thought of honey and the reflection of the sun as it sparkled on the water and the smell of clover and sunshine, and I looked down at myself in confusion.

I had forgotten about the blood. It was staining the dress in broad sweeping strokes of crimson, and I raised my hands to my face and felt it drying on my skin. I looked across at the two men in horror. “How can I just be sitting here like this…you should have said something! It’s awful!”

“Please don’t worry yourself, “Carlisle said. “We’re not sitting here in judgement on you Esme. Perhaps you’d like to wash?”

“Definitely. And change my dress.”

“We…we don’t have any clothes,” Carlisle said helplessly. “Just that dress. We didn’t think this through very well. Perhaps Edward could lend you something, while we wash it?”

There was nothing for it but to agree. Edward disappeared to another room as Carlisle led me into the kitchen, a room that was clearly never used. A thick layer of dust covered everything and there were spider webs decorating the corners. I was used to the kitchen being the heart of the home, and there was something about this bare and neglected room that made me feel bleak.

“Edward and I wash here,” Carlisle said, looking uncomfortable as he gestured towards the deep stone sink and the old-fashioned water pump beside it. “It’s not very…well, it’s rather primitive I’m afraid. We don’t tend to worry too much about the inconveniences, and no one else ever comes here. There is a wash house out the back, but I don’t think it’s been opened since we bought the house. I take our laundry to the laundress in town but your dress, all that blood…”

Carlisle stopped, looking wretched, and I felt a stirring of sympathy for him. Clearly he was doing all he could to make me feel comfortable here, and although it was all rather far from adequate it wasn’t for lack of trying on his part!

“I’ll rinse it clean myself,” I said. I could see a bar of soap balanced on the window ledge above the sink, and the blood hadn’t really had time to set, it should wash out well enough.

Carlisle looked relieved, even more so when Edward came in with a bundle of clothes, which he placed on the small table, the only furniture in the room.

“It’s a shirt and some trousers,” Edward said, looking as nervous as Carlisle had. “I’m sorry about the trousers, I know it’s horribly inappropriate, but it’s all we have. We really _should_ have thought of it and bought more clothes while you were…changing, but…”

“It’s fine,” I interrupted him, wondering if the two of them were going to apologise for _everything_. It was lovely that they were trying to be considerate of my feelings, but they’d just turned me into a _vampire_ …did they really think that expecting me to wear a pair of men’s trousers mattered in comparison to THAT?

I was relieved when they left the room and I could remove the blood soaked dress and begin to scrub my skin free of the traces of my feeding. I had not been looking forward to the icy cold water from the pump, but I found that it didn’t bother me at all and in fact my skin and core temperature seemed to remain the same no matter how many times I plunged my hands and arms into the icy water and rubbed it over my body.

It was then that I really saw how it had changed. My body had always been soft, with a plump bottom and small, rounded hips and breasts. The shape was the same, but my skin was so smooth and perfect and my body so hard…there was a slight rounding to my belly that maybe hinted at the baby that had grown there, and my breasts had been changed in that swollen and engorged state and were bigger than I had always been used to. But it was so unblemished…how could the marks and scars of twenty-six years of life just vanish?

Then I moved, and the sun that was streaming in through the window fell on me and I saw the shimmer. A thousand tiny rainbows of refracted light bouncing off my skin, making it all sparkle, bathing everything around me in this glowing, otherworldly beauty.

Carlisle and Edward must have heard my cry of astonishment, because a moment later they were both crowded in the doorway. Edward made an incoherent noise of embarrassment as he saw my nakedness and immediately averted his head, but I paid him no mind.

“Is this… _what is this_?” I gestured wildly to myself. “This…how can I ever go outside if my skin is like THIS?”

I didn’t care that I was naked. This new, strange body did not seem as though it quite belonged to me, and I felt no particular modesty about it. But as I looked up and saw Carlisle staring at me I realised with a jolt that he might be a vampire and a doctor…but he was a man for all that.

I snatched up the shirt and threw it on, buttoning it up at an astonishing speed and then standing with my hands on my hips. The shirt was long enough to cover me to mid-thigh, and I thought that was good enough.

Carlisle took a deep breath and then spoke. “I didn’t think to mention it. This vampire skin…whatever the substance is it’s made of reflects the light like that. It’s why we don’t go out during the day unless it’s absolutely necessary- we couldn’t be seen like that. I work at night, and if we have to go out during the day for shopping or the library we must stay well covered up, or wait for an overcast day.”

I was nearly shaking. “I can’t believe…This is so…” I stuttered to a stop. What could I say? Were there words enough in the world to explain how bewildered and horrified and frightened I was?

And yet…there was the doctor. In this terrifying, unfamiliar world he was the only thing that was familiar. The only thing that was safe. Slowly, not caring that he was watching me I pulled on Edward’s trousers, cinching tight the belt that was still threaded through the belt loops, and then I silently turned my back and began rinsing my dress, watching the red tinged water swirl around as it sucked and gurgled down the drain.


	20. Easier

 Carlisle was still watching me, standing like a statue in the kitchen door as I finished rinsing my dress. There was no mangle so I wrung it out in my hands, surprised at how much water I was able to force from the cloth.

“I’m so strong,” I said into the silence.

“Yes.” Carlisle nodded. “You’re very strong now, very fast…it’s a very different way of being.”

There was a door in the kitchen that led out onto the porch. “I don’t suppose you have a clothesline then?” I said, pausing with my hand on the knob.

A ghost of a smile drifted across Carlisle’s face. “No. I’m quickly realising that we have very few of the domestic accoutrements at all.”

I sighed and shrugged in resignation. “I suppose I’ll manage.” I opened the door and laid my dress over the porch railing in the sun. There was no wind to blow it away, and the sun should dry it soon enough.

“Would you like me to show you the house?” Carlisle offered. “It’s yours now too, you must treat it as you would your own.”

I rolled back the overly long sleeves of the shirt to keep it clear of my hands. “Thank you.”

“Not that there’s much too it,” Carlisle said. “Edward and I have lived alone, and our requirements are not very extensive. Isolation being the main one.”

“And somewhere to put all the books being the other one I suppose!” I said lightly, as Carlisle led me through the kitchen and back into the hallway.

He laughed sheepishly as he stood in the doorway of the room I had woken in. “We do have quite a large collection. They might look as if they’re just piled up anywhere, but we know where everything is! I hope you’ll help yourself to anything that interests you. There’s a lot on art and architecture, I can find them for you if you wish.”

 _He remembered_ , I thought with a little quiver of pleasure. _After all these years he remembered what I liked._

“This room would be the main bedroom if we needed one,” Carlisle said. “We use it primarily for storage. This large room was the dining room,” he added, leading me onwards to the room we had been in with the table. “Edward and I do most of our reading and studying in here. We spend most of our time here, really.”

“It’s nice,” I said. In truth the room _could_ have been nice, as it had lovely proportions and well sized windows and a beautifully carved mantel over the fireplace, if it had not been so exceedingly untidy and borne such an air of neglect.

“Thank you,” Carlisle said uncertainly. “It could be…well, I suppose it could be cleaner. Edward and I have perhaps not done such a good job with keeping up with the housework.” He gave me a slightly guilty look.

“I’m sure you’re busy at the hospital,” I said.

Carlisle led me back into the hallway and opened another doorway. “The music room.”

I peered in. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was scrupulously clean, and contained a shiny upright piano, a cabinet that housed three different kinds of gramophones, and a collection of records larger than I’d ever seen even in a store.

“If you like music you can amuse yourself in here,” Carlisle told me. “Edward plays the piano and he’s very good, he’ll play for you if you like. He’ll apologise for the sound of the piano - he wanted a grand but it wouldn’t fit in the house - but he’s excellent. If you do play the records, just…be careful.” Carlisle fidgeted in embarrassment. “I’m not suggesting you would be otherwise, it’s just that Edward…”

“Is happy to share.”

I spun around to see Edward lounging in the doorway, his eyebrows raised as he looked at Carlisle. Seeing me looking at him he gave me a small smile. “I’d be happy to share, Miss Esme. You’re more than welcome to listen to anything you would like to. And of course the piano is there to be played. Carlisle simply enjoys mocking me for being obsessive, because the collection is alphabetised and I clean in here. Dust isn’t good for the piano, _or_ the records.”

He made a face at Carlisle, and the doctor’s eyes crinkled up as he grinned back at him. It was a tiny moment, but it demonstrated clearly to me the familiarity and affection between the two of them, and I couldn’t help smiling too.

I had no great skill on the piano, but I had always enjoyed listening to music and I thought this room offered a great deal of entertainment potential. “Please just call me Esme though,” I said. “Not ‘Miss’. I know I’m older than you, but you were here first and…I don’t know.” I shook my head. I was years older than this child, but he had been here before me, and being newly born to this existence I was feeling very young and inexperienced.

“Whatever makes you more comfortable,” Edward said courteously.

He followed as Carlisle led me back into the hall, and then opened another doorway. “This is another bedroom that I’m using as a medical study.”

At the sight of a skeleton hanging from a stand in a shadowy corner I shrieked before I could help myself, and both the men suddenly laughed.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you!” Carlisle chuckled. “You don’t have to go in if you would rather not.”

I stepped cautiously into the room. “Oh my. This is…interesting.”

Apart from the skeleton there were several cabinets full of jars containing things I thought I might prefer not to examine too closely right now. There was also yet _another_ bookcase, this one containing medical journals and encyclopaedias. There were several large pictures on the walls, illustrating various parts of the human anatomy, and a gruesome collection of medical instruments both hung on the walls and displayed on a table. I turned to Dr Cullen with horror.

“Surely you don’t USE these?”

He laughed again. “No. They’re antiques mostly, just kept as a curio. The jars too, they’re just odd things that I’ve collected over time or that people have sent me to study. You needn’t trouble yourself about the things in here, but I didn’t want you to think that we were hiding anything from you.”

I took a last look around, hiding my distaste. Admittedly the room was _interesting_ , but it was also quite revolting and really smelled horribly of formaldehyde and alcohol. It wasn’t a place where I would really like spending time.

“That’s the house really,” Carlisle said. “We bought the place furnished last year, and put boxes of things in the attic and any furniture we didn’t need we put in the stable. Which was most of it really. When you don’t eat and don’t sleep…” He shrugged.

Carlisle and I ended up back in the dining room. Edward didn’t come with us, and a moment later I heard the opening chords of an unknown concerto from the piano.

“What would you like to do?” Carlisle asked uncertainly. “There are books, and some games or…there are some sketchpads somewhere, I remember that you talked about enjoying your drawing in the hospital.”

I sat down in one of the armchairs, drawing my feet up onto the seat and hugging my knees. I could almost hear my mother’s voice in my head, _Feet on the furniture Esme Anne? Really!_ but I pushed it aside. I was a vampire and wearing men’s trousers…who could worry about feet on the furniture at the same time?

Besides, the furniture was appalling. My feet on it were definitely not the worst of its problems.

“I’m sorry,” I said to Carlisle, realising he’d been waiting patiently for me to answer him. “I think I might just sit awhile, and think things through.”

“Would you like privacy? I can go elsewhere.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. Stay here and read if that’s what you wanted to do.”

He took a seat at the table, and I turned my body slightly so that I was facing out the window. My hair, usually glossy brown with long, sleek curls, was tangled into long matted ropes on my head, and I felt a moment of despair when I thought about what I must look like, a messy little scarecrow in these clothes that weren’t mine and didn’t fit...so very appropriate for my existence in a world I didn’t think I fit into either.

“Do you have a hairbrush?” I asked meekly.

“There’s a comb. I’ll fetch it.” Almost instantly Carlisle was back, handing me a wide-toothed bone comb. “Will that do?”

“Thank you.”

I took my time, combing through the tangles and smoothing my hair. I found it soothing, the repetitive motions of my hands and the softness of my hair slipping across my fingers. It was ordinary, in this very _extraordinary_ day.

I sat for hours, combing my hair and listening to Edward’s piano music and the rustle of paper and scratch of pen coming from Carlisle. I watched the sun move through the sky until it was over the house, and then watched the shadows lengthen on this side of the house as it began to fall. There was no impetus to move- no aching legs or cramped muscles from sitting in the same position for so long, no hunger, no uncomfortable heat or coolness, no desire to use an outhouse.

There was thirst though. Constant, agonising thirst that, just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, began to bite even harder as evening approached.

“Esme?” Carlisle’s voice broke into my reverie. “Are you thirsty?”

I shifted slightly to face him, realising that the music had stopped long ago. “A little.” My voice sounded hollow.

“May I say that I admire how calm you are?” Carlisle ventured. “Your acceptance of such difficult things has been astonishing.”

I laughed a little, wincing at the note of despair threaded through it. “Is there any point in being otherwise? And this is…” I shrugged.

“But it can’t be easy,” Carlisle persisted. “To know that your life as you knew it is gone?”

There was a long silence as I considered his words, and then said in a low voice, “My life _was_ over. I had lost everything Carlisle, and I went to the lake to die.”

“Would you like to tell me about it?”

“Do you remember saying goodbye to me at the hospital?” I asked suddenly. “Do you remember that?”

He smiled a little bashfully. “I remember everything about that, yes.”

“You wished a long and happy life for me,” I whispered. “That’s what you said.” I covered my face with my hands. “It didn’t work out like that.”

I was disconcerted when I took my hands away to find Carlisle kneeling close to me, his face sad. “Oh Esme, I’m sorry. I thought there would be so many good things for you.”

“I got married,” I told him.

I didn’t tell him how long I had dreamed about him, or about how the memory of him had made all those other men seem ordinary.

“You know I wanted to teach, but my parents would never allow it. And there aren’t so many options really, not for a girl. So I got married. I didn’t love him, but he seemed nice enough and he wanted to take care of me. My parents wanted it. There didn’t seem any real reason to say no.” I paused for a long moment, looking down at my hands instead of at Carlisle. “It wasn’t a happy marriage. He was violent, and I had no recourse. I was pleased when he enlisted and went away to war, and I prayed that he would never come back.” I met Carlisle’s eyes with a shamed look. “You probably think that’s horrible.”

He shook his head slowly. “No. Very understandable, in fact.” His golden eyes looked at me steadily. “I suppose he came back though?”

“Yes. He was worse after that. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely his fault, after what he’d seen and done in the war, but that didn’t matter much to me when I was on the receiving end of his rages. And then I found out I was going to have a baby.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Carlisle says softly. “I won’t pry if you don’t wish to share.”

I shook my head drearily and rested my cheek on my knees. “I ran away. I wanted to keep the baby safe, so I came here to Ashland to have it, far away from Charles. I taught at the church school to support myself. And then the baby was born.” I touch my hard, vampire belly remembering, as if in a dream, the way the pain had gripped me and then the blissful relief as the pain ended and my baby was laid in my arms. “I had a day of being his mother. And then he got sick.”

“What was it?”

“Lung fever. He died on the second day.” I could picture him in my head, the tiny wrinkled hands and the whorl of brown hair on his downy skull, and the way he had smelled so milky sweet. I frowned. “They didn’t even let me bury him. They said I should just _forget_ him. Go home and make another baby…I had no husband and no baby and I didn’t want to live. But somehow it all seems so far away now, like it happened in another lifetime.”

“The human memories fade,” Carlisle said, watching me carefully. “As a vampire you see so clearly and your senses are so strong, that things that happened to you in your human life begin, very quickly, to seem dim and far more distant than they are. It can be a blessing in some ways.”

“I wouldn’t want to forget my baby,” I said with effort. “But the pain of his death, and the despair that took me to the lake that night…I like that I no longer feel that so acutely.”

“Is that why you’re so calm?” Carlisle asked incredulously. “Because this is _easier_?”

I considered. “Yes,” I said, almost in surprise. “This IS easier than the loss of my baby. And I went to the lake and tried to die, and if I’ve woken up in this strange world of yours and not heaven…well, I was prepared for something different and it’s not like I knew what heaven would be like anyway. I’d already said goodbye and let go of everything that mattered.”


	21. Bear Hunt

The sun dropped down behind the horizon, and the dim light of twilight stole over the land.

“Would you like to hunt?” Carlisle asked. “It’s only your first day, and the thirst is at its worst early on.”

I nodded. “My throat is parched. Will Edward come?”

Carlisle shook his head. “He left on some errands a little while ago, and he’s not thirsty in any case. You’ll find that as time goes by you will need to feed less often too.”

I rose to my feet and followed him out to the yard. The evening air was thick with scents and I automatically let my nose sift through them, searching for something appealing. I noticed the quietly approving nod from Carlisle.

“What can you smell?”

“There are deer,” I said immediately. “Over that way somewhere, but there’s something else there too. Just the faintest trace. I don’t know what it is, but it smells better…is that human?” I looked at him fearfully.

“No,” Carlisle said reassuringly. “It’s not human. If it were you wouldn’t be standing here talking about it, you’d be off after it already. But you’re right that what you’re scenting tastes better than the deer…it’s a bear.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “A _bear?_ ”

“Yes. Carnivores taste better.” Carlisle gave me a sudden, vivid smile. “Let’s go and find it Esme. A bear will fill you up better than any other animal, and it’s been a long time since I’ve tasted any myself.” He gestured towards the forest. “Try and follow it the scent. I’ll help you if you need me but I think you’ll be fine; bear scent is strong and obvious.”

I didn’t think about shoes, but I discovered almost immediately that they were unnecessary and my vampire skin was impermeable. The rough forest floor felt as soft as velvet under the soles of my feet, and this time I allowed my instincts free rein as I moved silently through the forest. The scent trail was clear and easy to follow, and without realising it I began running, the forest flying past me in a blur.

Carlisle kept pace with me, his movements silent. I watched him out of the corner of my eye and adjusted myself in tiny ways until I was as soundless as he was. My father had not been particularly interested in hunting as a sport, but he had hunted predators of his flocks and hunted the occasional deer to add some venison to our table and I had listened to him talk about it. I tried to remember anything that I might find useful.

I slowed as we came within striking distance of the bear, automatically approaching it from downwind so he wouldn’t scent me. The animal was at the height of condition, fat and sleek after a summer of good food, and the venom flooded my mouth as I heard the steady heartbeat and smelled the blood so close.

“She’s so big,” I murmured to Carlisle, crouching down and staring intently at the bear through the trees. I was a little surprised to feel him come down beside me, his shoulder against mine and the delicious scent of him competing with that of the bear for my attention. Disconcerted I looked back at the bear, watching as she ambled along, pausing to scratch unconcernedly at her back. I frowned. The deer had been easy, the pulse points obvious beneath the short velvet fur, but this bear had a thick pelt and as she stood on her hind legs to scratch her back against the trunk of a tree she stood taller than I did. “I don’t know how.”

“It’s best not to think too much,” Carlisle said almost inaudibly. “Instinct is a powerful guide. But the easiest arteries to breach are the neck and the groin- if you pin the shoulders you can get into the neck before she knows what’s happening and can fight back. You’re stronger than a bear in any case, but it’s quicker and easier if you get them down in one strike.”

I did as Carlisle suggested and let instinct guide me as I leaped. It was as though time slowed, everything around me standing out in perfect clarity, all my movements like a perfectly executed dance as my hands sank into the soft fur and my mouth found the pulse beat and my teeth tore through flesh. The blood spurted into my mouth as the bear fell, but I let myself fall with her so that my lips could remain clamped onto the wound as the thick, hot blood flooded all my senses.

Carlisle was right that it would taste better than the deer, and fill me up more. In fact it was too much and even as the blood still pulsed weakly from the torn artery, I sat back with a gasping breath, glutted.

“May I?” Carlisle asked, indicating the bear.

I nodded, dazed, and he bent his golden head over the twitching animal and drank. I watched him, fascinated at the sight of this elegant man, wearing his pristine trousers, waistcoat and shirt and yet bent over the twitching mound of bear, swallowing down blood with fierce intent.

He caught me starting at him as he sat up, licking the blood that smeared across his lips. “It’s not always a pretty life, Esme,” he said quietly. “I don’t wish to mislead you. I live by the tenets of humanity and cling to civility, but I am fully aware that my existence is only made possible by this brutality.”

I stroked my fingers through the bear’s thick, soft fur. “But you don’t want to die.”

“No, I don’t,” Carlisle said steadily. “Not now. I tried to kill myself in the beginning, when I thought I would have to kill humans to survive. I never wanted to be a bringer of death, I abhorred the darkness…but then I found out that I can survive on animals and resist the blood call. We might have to avoid the sunshine Esme, but that doesn’t mean we have to live in darkness.”

His smile was gentle and kind and his face shone like the sun.

_No, we don’t have to live in darkness. Not with you._

“You changed Edward three years ago,” I said slowly. “What about before that?”

“No one.” Carlisle looked thoughtful. “It’s not done lightly, creating a new vampire. It’s very difficult to do- there are many of us who don’t have the strength of will to bite without killing.”

“But you do.”

“I didn’t want to risk it. And for a long time I didn’t know if I had the right to change someone, to take their humanity and condemn them to this life when they might become anything.”

“But you turned Edward. What changed your mind?” I asked.

Carlisle absent-mindedly twisted his fingers in the thick brown fur. “After centuries alone, I grew lonely. I had friends, but they didn’t share my beliefs and such fundamental differences made it difficult to spend lengthy periods of time with them. I began to think about perhaps creating a companion- someone who might share my beliefs and be willing to live this life also. But it wasn’t a straightforward or simply decision to make; I didn’t know if I possessed the ability or that I could find a suitable person even if I did.”

“What made you choose Edward?”

“I was working in Chicago at the time. It was the first wave of the Spanish flu, the hospitals were all in chaos and the death toll was horrific. You would remember it. Young, strong, healthy…no one was safe. In the midst of this I admitted a family, the Masens, all of them ill. Edward Masen Senior died very quickly, but his wife and son fought hard and lingered for some time.” Carlisle’s eyes looked faraway, and I knew he was remembering. “I spent what little time I had talking with Elizabeth. She was a very bright, very intuitive woman. Unlike most of the other patients she remained lucid almost right to the end, and she knew she was dying. She begged me to save her son. I told her that we had done all we could, that there were not medicines for this.” He hesitated. “She told me that I didn’t need medicine to save him.”

“She knew what you were?”

“Perhaps not exactly. But she sensed something, and I didn’t deny that I could do something for the boy and she asked me again to save him. To do whatever I could, use whatever means I had at my disposal… _whatever_ means.” He sighed heavily. “It was the last conversation we had. She died very shortly afterwards, and then there was Edward. I knew he wouldn’t live out the night. Even then I might not have done it, despite her begging, if it had not been…well, if it had not been _Edward_. I have become a good judge of character after so many years, and Edward…even on his deathbed you could see it, the purity and goodness of heart he possesses. So I took him home, knowing that in the disorder of a hospital dealing with a pandemic he wouldn’t be missed, and I changed him. I haven’t regretted it, because Edward is extraordinary and it would have been a tragedy for him never to have lived.”

I absorbed this tale. My thoughts lingered on Elizabeth, Edward’s mother, who had begged for son’s life by any means possible. Would I have done that too?

_Oh yes, my baby little one. If Carlisle had been there for me to beg, I would have begged even this for you._

_But to think of you like this…I am glad I never had the choice._

“Why me?” I asked in a small voice. “Why change me? I’m not anything much and I tried to throw my life away…what made you feel I should have this?”

“Because I remembered you,” Carlisle said intently, and I dropped my eyes in the face of his gaze. “Because I remembered a girl with a head full of dreams and an amazing eye for beauty, and I couldn’t bear to think that it had gone so wrong for you. I wanted you to have…well, I wanted you to have something of the life you deserved Esme. You were in the morgue, a dead woman without a name but with a faint heartbeat and a tiny spark of life. Not enough for me to have revived you- your human life was over – but enough for me to give you this life. So I gave in to my impulses and I did it, and I pray that you will not hate me for it.”

“I don’t hate you for it,” I whispered. “I’m afraid, that’s all.”

“Don’t be afraid. It’s new and it’s different…but it’s life, Esme. _Your_ life, and you can do what you want with it.”

I nodded slowly. He was right…I had been given a second chance at life here, and as strange and uncomfortable and frightening as it might be it was what I had.

“Let’s go back,” Carlisle said, rising to his feet and offering me a hand.

I jumped up with without his help, and gestured towards the bear. “What do we do with that?”

“We usually bury the carcasses,” Carlisle replied. “It’s generally healthier not to leave rotting bodies lying about, and if hikers or rangers found an unusual number of dead animals in a particular area that would be suspicious. It seems a waste with this one though, since the fur is exceptionally good. Would you like it? We could tan the hide and make a rug…after all, you did seem to disapprove of the lack of decorations in my house.”

It took me a moment to realise he was joking about my disapproval, and I laughed in genuine appreciation. He was so serious that the flashes of light-hearted humour were like gems.

“I think a bearskin rug would be lovely,” I said with a giggle. “We can lay it in front of the fire, and I can lie there and read.”

“As long as you don’t get too close to the fire,” Carlisle warned. “There are very few ways to destroy a vampire, but dismemberment and fire is really the main one.”

I grimaced. “Oh. Does it…happen often?”

Carlisle slung the bear over his shoulder and looked at me kindly. “Not to my knowledge. There is a vampire authority of sorts, the Volturi, who may step in if vampires are causing obvious mayhem in the human world and may dispense what they see as justice. Sometimes that involves death.”

“So there are rules?” I asked uncertainly. “About being what we are?” The two of us walked back through the forest, our footsteps silent.

“Maintain the secrecy, that’s all,” Carlisle said. “It wouldn’t do for humans to know of our existence, so it is imperative that we do what we can to avoid notice and avert suspicion. For most vampires, who live as nomadic hunters, it isn’t difficult. For us, who stay in one place, it’s a little more complicated.”

“You don’t age,” I said, realising the implications. “You can’t stay in one place very long.”

“No,” Carlisle agreed. “I have always moved on regularly. Ten years seems to be about the most I can stretch it…but that’s not a bad thing. I have generally avoided any sort of relationships with humans beyond the very superficial, and moving on makes that simpler.”

“Is it because…because you want to eat them?” I asked hesitantly, giving an unwilling giggle at the outrageousness of the statement.

Carlisle seemed amused. “Not at all. I’ve never fed from a human, and after working so hard at resisting temptation for this long I barely even notice it anymore. It’s more that…it hurts. To make friends and know that you will not be able to keep them, to know that you are ultimately alone and that everyone you ever meet will die and be dust in their graves while you are still walking the earth…it can be painful.”

“If you work as a doctor, what does Edward do?” I ask. “He’s so young.”

“He is young.” A faint frown crossed Carlisle’s face. “He’s going to school at the moment. He has resisted drinking human blood from vampire birth, but it wasn’t easy and we didn’t want to risk it. He stayed close to home for over two years, but he enrolled in school here for the last semester. We said he was my brother and I act as his guardian. He finds it difficult, not the lessons but the constant temptation mixed with the telepathy, but we both think it is worthwhile for him to pursue his education.”

I fiddled with the blood soaked cuffs of my borrowed shirt and said diffidently, “So it really IS very hard then? Resisting human blood…even if you want to?”

Carlisle nodded soberly. “It is very, very difficult. It’s not just that I’m the only vampire crazy or stupid enough to think of it that we’re almost the only vampires that live this way. Even with all the will in the world, it’s easy to fail when faced with a test. But we keep trying, and we’ll help you do that too. If you want to do this Esme, I promise you that it can be done and I will do all in my power to make it as easy as possible for you.”


	22. Learning Lessons

Edward was sitting on the porch, reading in the dark when Carlisle and I returned to the house. He looked up at our approach and smiled, and I saw in his face a hint of the goodness that had drawn Carlisle to turn him.

“Nice bear,” Edward said. “I don’t suppose there’s any left?”

“With a newborn having first dibs?” Carlisle said with a laugh. “I was lucky to get some myself. Esme brought it down- I thought I might tan the hide for her.”

“You enjoyed the bear then?” Edward asked me. “Better than deer…unfortunately not as plentiful.”

I nodded shyly. Feeding on animals, drinking blood…it was such an alien experience, and yet the way they spoke about it so casually was comforting.

“Come inside,” Edward urged. “I went to town and I bought you some things.”

Carlisle vanished to the barn, but with vampire speed he was back by my side as Edward ushered me into the living room. “I was listening to Carlisle earlier, so I went shopping,” he explained.

I didn’t say a word as I looked at the items on the table. A smooth wooden box with silver corners that held a tortoiseshell and silver dressing table set with a hairbrush, comb and mirror. A sketchbook and a tin of drawing pencils piled up with a pad of watercolour paper and some paints and brushes. A porcelain teapot hand painted with delicate green vines and purple flowers. A pile of folded shirts and two pairs of trousers, and beside them a thick store catalogue.

“I’m sorry they’re not ladies’ clothes,” Edward said apologetically. “But I didn’t know what to buy and it looks too peculiar for a boy to be buying woman’s dresses! So I bought you some shirts that will at least fit you better than mine do– I think – and the catalogue, so you can choose what you want. We’ll order them in and collect them from the post office.”

I was so touched that at first I couldn’t even speak. The kindness of both of them, and their eagerness to see me feeling at home was so sweet and meant so much to me. “Thank you,” I said to Edward. “It’s all lovely!”

He grinned at my pleasure. “You’re very welcome.”

I touched the soft cotton of the shirts, and stroked my fingers across the smooth tortoiseshell backing of the hairbrush. Without thinking I picked up the mirror and looked at my reflection, and then a scream of horror tore through me.

“ _My eyes!”_ For they were not the same golden colour as Carlisle and Edward’s, but a bright, vivid ruby red that made me look like something from a nightmare. “What’s _wrong_ with me?”

“Nothing…nothing!” Carlisle said quickly. “It’s just what the eyes are like in a newborn, and in a vampire that drinks human blood. It will pass.”

I was shivering uncontrollably. “But it look so awful! What if people see?”

“People won’t see,” Edward said practically. “If you keep to the animal diet your eyes will turn golden soon enough. Light when you’re satisfied, darker when you’re hungry. It’s not _quite_ a human colour, but it’s close enough.”

I tried to swallow down my horror. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect that. I thought I must look…like you.”

“In time you will,” Carlisle reassured me.

“Well, thank you for everything,” I said, clinging to my self control. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

“We want you to be happy here Esme,” Carlisle said. “And we’ll do what we can to help you adjust.”

I nodded again, and then picked up one my new shirts and trousers. “I’ll just go and get changed into some clean clothes.”

“Very well.” Carlisle then gave me a hopeful look. “Do you play chess? Because I haven’t had anyone but Edward to play with for a long time, and he really is a terrible cheat.”

Edward rolled his eyes impatiently. “As if it’s MY fault that I can see all your moves ahead of time!”

 _Oh, the telepathy…_ I thought, and I laughed at the thought of playing games with a mind reader. “I don’t play chess,” I admitted. “But I can always learn.”

__________________________________________________

_I can always learn._

It became my mantra over the next few long days. _I can always learn._ I can learn to play chess, I can learn to hunt and kill with efficiency, I can learn to bury bodies, I can learn what it’s like to never feel tired and never sleep, I can learn what it’s like to have super sensitive sight and hearing and other senses and not let myself be overwhelmed with the input…. _I can always learn._

I did learn, and the learning was almost effortless. Not only because my physical senses were heightened to an extreme degree by the vampirism, but because my memory and intellect were also increased.

But the perfect memory and recall were only for things that had happened since my vampire birth. Every day the human memories faded just a little bit more, and I made little effort to keep them sharp. At Carlisle’s suggestion I wrote a brief story of my human life so that I had it if I should ever want details, but after that I was content to let most of the memories grow dim.

Except for the baby. I drew him, and I wrote pages and pages describing everything I could remember about him, and I wished that vampires could weep so that I could mourn him with tears. But in the end I didn’t want to remember the sorrow of losing him and I thought only of the single, blissful day I had had with him when he was healthy and I was euphoric, running it through my head every day so that it stayed sharp and strong and I could treasure it. I had lost him, and I knew with an instinctive knowledge that this vampire body would never be able to nurture life and I would never have another chance to bear a child, but he had been born and he had lived, and I would always think of myself as a mother.

I went through the store catalogue and chose clothes and underwear and shoes that would be delivered. I worried about the money at first and selected only the barest essentials and the most inexpensive things, but Carlisle saw the order and scolded me gently.

“Esme, don’t be shy. Buy what you want! There is money there, more money than we’ll ever use…a few dresses will hardly make a dent in it. I’ll show you the accounts if you like and you’ll see the money that is just sitting there waiting to be spent. That doesn’t include the properties I own, and the investments and the things I have in storage that could be sold, and there’s Edward’s money also. We’ve finally arranged matters there so that he has been able to inherit his own estate and he’s a very wealthy man in his own right now. So truly Esme, don’t fret about the cost…just buy what you want.”

Even so I kept the order to a minimum, only to have it delivered and discover that Carlisle and Edward had simply bought multiples of everything I chose when they decided that what I had ordered wasn’t possibly enough.

“Ladies are supposed to have lots of clothes,” Edward told me firmly when I objected. “My mother did. And you’re keeping your clothes in the pantry- you need to have enough things to fill it up.”

I giggled at him. “I’m not a lady. I wasn’t before, and I’m certainly not now!”

“You’re lady enough,” Carlisle said, and I caught his eye across the room and felt a flush of pleasure at the way he was looking at me.

The extra clothes turned out to be a blessing as I refined my hunting abilities anyway. I was getting neater about the kill and was coming home without great blood spatters across everything, but I would forget to pay attention to the forest around me as I stalked my prey and ruined several dresses and pairs of stockings by catching them on bushes and trees as I ran. In the end I found it easier to dress in the shirts and trousers to hunt, keeping my feet bare, at least while I was learning.

As Carlisle had said, he and Edward didn’t need to feed as frequently as I did, but both of them were happy to go out in to the forest with me. I told them that they didn’t need to, that if they were busy I would manage by myself, but the two of them exchanged glances and shook their heads.

“I don’t think we should risk it,” Carlisle said gently. “It’s unlikely that you’ll come across a human in the forest, but it’s possible. We need to get you accustomed to the scent and prepared to resist the temptation before you should go out alone.”

I didn’t argue. The idea of doing to a human what I did daily to the deer around our home was horrific, and I was hesitant at first to even challenge myself that way. It was simpler to stay close to home as I grew more used to this new life, putting off the time that I would have to face the difficulty head on.

And despite my reticence to try, I admit that I underestimated how very hard it would be! I listened to what Carlisle and Edward told me and I heard from them how hard they had found it, but at the same time the fact was that neither of them had ever succumbed. They had always stood firm in their convictions, and I thought that maybe I would be able to do that too.

I wasn’t able to. To my eternal shame, I fell at the first hurdle.

I was out hunting, following a new scent trail with Carlisle by my side. He’d said it was a bobcat, and I was tracking it unhurriedly as I contemplated whether it was more or less attractive than the bear scent had been. But then the wind shifted, and the scent of the cat turned to ashes in my mouth because suddenly there was something else. A scent a thousand times more appealing than the cat as it called to the very deepest instincts I had. And I swerved away from what I was chasing and turned towards it and I ran.

I didn’t think. I _couldn’t_ think. There was nothing but that smell, and the unstoppable, roaring force of desire that rocked my body as instinct took over and I ran. I heard Carlisle call out, but only my very basest brain was working now, the dark instincts of the predator, and I paid him no heed.

I reached the path and skidded to a halt with the venom flooding my mouth as the scent began to drown me. There was a horse who stopped dead as he saw me suddenly appear in front of him, and then reared and bucked in sheer, screaming terror as he smelled me and _his_ instincts kicked in.

I screamed back at him. The horse was nothing, just a nuisance, an insignificant little obstacle between me and what I _really_ wanted- that human being, who had never stood a chance.

Almost mad with fear, the horse did my work for me as he tossed loose the human who must have been desperately trying to hold him back. I caught it before it even hit the ground, and there was not even time for it to scream before my teeth tore into the neck and I took what I wanted.

It was a moment of madness. A moment of being overwhelmed by a call so deep and ancient that I had no choice but to surrender to it, even if in doing so I became a monster. _And make no mistake, I was a monster!_ I sank down to my knees, my eyes closed as my lips clamped down on the gushing wound my teeth had ripped through the skin as I gulped and swallowed mindlessly, revelling in the hot, delicious blood as it poured through me.

I didn’t stop as the blood began to slow. Even as the heartbeat faded and then stuttered to a stop I grabbed the body and shook it, sucking harder to force the last remaining drops through the veins and into my desperate mouth. It was only when there was nothing more to be had that I felt my reason return.

I was on my knees, the limp body cradled in my arms like a baby. It was like a disgusting perversion of the time I had spent feeding my infant and I made a choking sound of horror as I realised what I’d done and let the body fall, scampering backwards to get away.

It didn’t make any difference being further away. I still couldn’t tear my eyes away from the body sprawled out so inelegantly on the dusty track. I couldn’t stop myself from taking in every detail of the person I had just killed with such ruthlessness, and I covered my mouth to hold back my scream. He was a young man, wearing clean trousers and a blue and white checked shirt with sweat stains under the armpits, his face smooth shaven and his dark hair oiled. And now he was dead, half his throat torn out and blood smeared and spattered all over him. Dead because of _me_ …

“Esme! Esme, stop it, please…”

I wasn’t aware that the scream had escaped and the sound was ringing through the forest until Carlisle’s face swam into view, only inches away from mine, and blocking the sight of my victim. I could see that even his calm was shattered and he was working to hold himself together.

“Esme, you must calm down,” he said urgently. “Please. Listen to me.”

“I killed him,” I whispered, horrified. “I killed him, he’s dead and it’s all because of me!”

“We need to deal with it,” Carlisle told me. “That must be our next step. We can’t just leave him here.” For a moment he drummed his fingers on his thighs and muttered, “I should have caught the horse. He’ll be back to town by now and that will raise the alarm.”

I was almost dizzy with the strength of emotions pouring through me. I had killed someone, and now Carlisle was talking concealment…

“I can’t just _hide_ it!” I hissed. “ _I killed him!”_

“I know.” As the seconds ticked by, Carlisle seemed to only grow calmer. “But that can’t be changed, and concealment is our only option now. Think about it…what happens if you confess or are accused and end up in the hands of law enforcement?”

I saw his point, but still shook my head frantically, subsumed by guilt. “But I deserve to take the consequences! I can’t just pretend…”

“ _You have to.”_ I had never heard Carlisle sound so fierce. “You are a vampire now, and pretence is what we do!”

For a moment there was silence, and then I bowed my head. Carlisle was right. I had to pretend, because this wasn’t just about me now- anything I did might reflect on Carlisle and Edward and risk our exposure. Without a word I gathered up the body in my arms and began carrying it steadily back towards the house.

“Let me help you,” Carlisle said at my elbow. “You don’t have to carry him.”

I shook my head. “He’s mine.” I couldn’t elaborate. All I knew was that I had ended his life, and I would take care of him now until the end.


	23. Instinct and Reason

Edward met us as we walked back towards the house, his face deliberately blank and a shovel in his hand. For once I was glad of his telepathy because he could read my mind and I didn’t have to explain.

Not that it would have taken much explanation. The ravaged body in my arms and the blood spattered all over me told the story very clearly.

“We should bury him I think,” he said to Carlisle. “But it can’t be too near the house. We’re the only home near the track and the police may come and questions us. If they bring dogs…well, better to bury him elsewhere I think.”

“It’s a sound plan,” Carlisle agreed, his voice sombre. “Esme, Edward and I can take of this if you’d like to go back to the house…”

“No,” I snapped. “I did it, and I’ll deal with it.”

I had not spoken so harshly to Carlisle or Edward before, and the two of them fell silent in the face of my anger. Edward took the lead and I followed him to a place in the forest where the floor was rocky and the plant life scrubby. With vampire speed he had cleared a space of rocks and was digging a hole, although the digging was done only slightly faster than human pace and I wondered why.

“The shovel will break,” Edward grunted. “I can only work as fast as the tools will allow…might be easier just to use my hands.” But he finished digging the grave in time and then looked at me. “Esme?”

I dropped down into the hole beside him and laid the mutilated body gently on the earth. I knew it didn’t matter, not now, but I gently pulled his legs straight and crossed his arms over his chest. Stooping down again I brushed his hair back neatly into place. _I’m so sorry…it’s not enough, but it’s all I know to say. I’m sorry._

“I don’t even know his name,” I said wretchedly to Carlisle.

Edward groped at the man’s pockets, this time not able to hide his look of revulsion. “He has no identification on him.”

“Just bury him,” Carlisle said quietly. “That is all we can do for him now.”

I let them do it. I sat by the side of the grave, hugging my knees and staring blindly ahead as they covered him over and gave the body back to the earth. But it was not the man I had killed that I saw in my mind. Instead it was my baby, my beloved Michael, who had been buried like this- unnamed and unmarked, by strangers who didn’t love him.

“Say something for him,” I choked out once Carlisle and Edward were done covering the grave- piling the dirt and then covering it with rocks and forest litter until the ground looked as though it hadn’t even been disturbed. “Please…just say something.”

Carlisle’s face looked impossibly sad. “Of course.” He knelt at the side of the grave and crossed himself and then spoke some unfamiliar words with the rhythm and cadence of music. “It’s Latin,” he told me quietly when he was done. “It was the prayer my father said for the dead…he was a pastor.”

I nodded wordlessly, and the three of us made the journey back to the house. It was only once we were in sight of it that I broke the silence.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” The accusation in my tone was harsh. “You said you’d help me not hurt anyone…why didn’t you stop me?”

Carlisle shoulders were bowed under the weight of his guilt. “I should have,” he said hollowly. “I should have done whatever it took to stop you, but I didn’t want to handle you roughly…and then it was too late. I was wrong. I’m sorry Esme, you should not take responsibility for this tragedy, it can be placed squarely at my feet…”

“Oh, what rubbish!” I snarled, completely and unreasonably changing my mind, contrary in my devastation. “It’s not your fault at all! I make my own choices and sometimes they’re terrible…you don’t control the world Carlisle Cullen!”

Two bewildered faces looked back at me. I couldn’t blame them really- first I had shouted at him for not stopping me, and now I was shouting at him because he was trying to take the guilt from my shoulders. Really…what DID I want?

“Esme…” Carlisle tried again, but this time I literally stamped my foot at him.

“Don’t!” I glared. “Don’t try and make me feel better about this! Just leave me be, like the monster I am!” And I whirled around and stamped into the kitchen, slamming the door behind me hard enough to put a crack through the pane of glass in the window.

Angry, hurting, sick at heart and above all confused I covered my face with my hands and screamed. I didn’t know how to do this! How could I have fallen at the first test? And where would I go from here? How could I fit into this oddly civil and gentle world that Carlisle had created and then welcomed me to when I wasn’t like them? I could claim no moral ground, not now…no, I was a monster from legend, pure and simple.

“Go AWAY!” I shouted, hearing footsteps on the porch. Carlisle again- I knew the exact sound of him. “Just go AWAY!” The footsteps retreated.

I looked around the kitchen and hated it for being so dirty and neglected. How could I expect to behave like a human being if I didn’t live like one? Still furious I marched out to the washhouse and broke the lock, wrenching the door open on its rusty hinges. I knew that they’d bought the house furnished after the previous owner had passed, and I knew that no woman would have a house and not have the items needed to clean it.

Sure enough the washhouse revealed, amongst an alarming number of spiders and a nest of rats in a wicker laundry basket, a straw broom, a scrubbing brush, a cracked and dried bar of soap and a pile of buckets. The first bucket I picked up was rusted through but the next one was usable and so I gathered up what I had found and stomped back to the kitchen, where I set about giving it the cleaning of its life.

I think I swept years worth of dust and grime from the floors and the walls, and then took the soap and the scrubbing brush and scrubbed everything. I used my blood stained clothes as rags to clean and polish, even managing to almost bring up a shine on the old cast iron stove. I broke three windowpanes, being unable to temper my vampire strength to an appropriate level for cleaning glass, but I swept up the glass and continued on. I could hear the occasional quiet murmur from Carlisle and Edward from the study, but they stayed well away.

When the kitchen was clean but bare, I went searching further afield. Carlisle had said they had moved furniture and things into the stable, so I went out there and poked through the dusty, cobwebby shapes until I found some kitchen chairs, which could be cleaned and placed around the table. Boxes of unwanted household goods had been stacked carelessly in the attic when Carlisle and Edward had moved in, so I climbed briskly up to the attic and began searching for something I might want.

Carlisle had been right about the moths. Most of the linens and clothes were ruined. But I found a dinner service and some copper bottomed saucepans that were dirty but undamaged, and a few bits of china that had been carefully wrapped for storage. I carried it all down to the kitchen, ignoring Carlisle and Edward as they watched me from the dining room, and continued with my cleaning.

But I had lost my frenetic desperation and I washed and dried the old fashioned dinner service peacefully. I arranged it on the dresser I had cleaned, and then polished the saucepans and hung them by the stove, on the hooks where they must have been hung before. I filled a china vase with some ferny fronds and placed it in the centre of the table, my teapot from Edward and some chipped china cups also arranged.

“We need a tablecloth,” I said aloud. “But for now, this will do.” I walked to the door and flung it open to reveal Edwards and Carlisle standing awkwardly in the hallway. “You can come in now,” I said politely. “I’ve finished.”

Edward, who had no doubt been listening to my thoughts all day, only smiled and sat down decorously at the table, but Carlisle’s eyes widened as he looked about him in complete astonishment.

“Why Esme, it looks lovely! It looks like…like a home.”

I smiled in satisfaction. “Thank you.”

It _did_ look lovely. Everything was neat and clean, and removing all the dust and grime had revealed a surprisingly nice colour of yellow paint on the walls. The dresser with the dinner service arranged so tidily, the flowers and the teapot set on the table as if ready to use, the copper saucepans hung up and the cast iron kettle settled on the hob…all of it spoke to me of the comfort and familiarity of being human.

“We can talk about it now,” I added quietly. “About what happened today.”

I gestured to the table and we all sat. For a long moment there was silence, and then I said softly, “I’m sorry. I really am…I’m so sorry I let you both down today.” I dropped my eyes, not wanting to face them with the marks of guilt so clear on my face. “I’m so ashamed of myself.”

“Esme,” Carlisle said gently, “Please look at me.”

I risked a quick glance, expecting to see scorn or disappointment or even anger, but his golden eyes were clear and kind.

“You’ve let no one down. This is a tragedy, but the blame must be shared. I should have been paying more attention, and I _should_ have stopped you. I promised I would help you learn to resist, but I didn’t prepare you properly for what it would be like. I was too hesitant to do what I should have done to physically stop you.”

“It was so overwhelming though. I don’t know if I can do it, if I’ll ever be able to do it.” My voice shook as I voiced my deepest fear, and I looked across at them entreatingly. “I _want_ to do what you both do. But I know that neither of you have ever made a mistake and I fell at the first challenge! I couldn’t resist at all! What if I _can’t_?”

“I believe that you can,” Carlisle said simply. “It may take time and practise, but if you want to succeed then you can.”

“I think you can do it,” Edward added, frowning thoughtfully. “I can hear what’s in your mind, hear what it was like for you and I can see how difficult it was. I think Carlisle and I underestimated it. I certainly did…Carlisle’s been resisting for so long it isn’t difficult for him anymore, and my telepathy apparently played a bigger part in me being able to resist than I thought it did.”

“Really?” Carlisle looked intently at Edward, who nodded.

“Yes. For Esme…it was pure instinct. Completely overwhelming. I have always heard the human thoughts, so while the instinct to hunt is there I am also reminded at every moment of their humanity. It gives me a breathing space, just enough time for reason to overcome instinct. Esme didn’t have that.”

Carlisle drummed his fingers on the table. “I can see that. We need to work on desensitisation, just as I had to in the beginning. But it can be done,” he added, smiling at me earnestly. “You need to forgive yourself though. Mistakes have been made and the consequences are tragic, but that doesn’t negate your intentions. We will just keep trying.”

“I need your help though. Please, you _must_ promise that you’ll stop me! Use whatever means necessary- throw me to the ground and sit on me, pull my legs off…” I laughed a little shakily. “You said they can be reattached, correct?”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that!” Edward laughed.

“But promise me…if you can, you won’t let me do that again.”

“We promise we will do what we can,” Carlisle said sincerely. “We’ll make it work Esme.”

We didn’t know how soon we would have to make it work. We talked a little about different ways in which I could become accustomed to the scent of humans, but before any decisions were made the situation was forced.

“There’s someone approaching the house.” Edward appeared in the doorway of the dining room, where Carlisle was writing and I was curled in an armchair reading. “He’s searching for his brother. When the horse came back riderless they guessed that he must have been thrown somewhere along the track, and we’re one of the few houses along here.”

Carlisle was on his feet in an instant. “Perhaps I should go out and meet him?”

“He’s on a horse, he’s almost here.” Edward hesitated. “You should stay with Esme. You’re supposed to have the measles, after all. I’ll talk to him on the porch and get rid of him as soon as possible.” He gave me a slightly forced smile. “You’ll smell him Esme, but you’ll be prepared this time.”

I nodded silently, straining my ears in the silence until I could hear the faint hoof beats, growing louder. “Don’t let me hurt him,” I said fiercely to Carlisle.

He nodded wordlessly. Both of us listened to the approach, the hooves on the packed earth of the path, the creak of the leather tack, a cough from the rider at dust caught in his throat. And then the scent of him came drifting into the room, and I began to shake.

“Carlisle.” The venom flooded my mouth and it was as though the world narrowed down to nothing but the heartbeat of the human and the delicious, irresistible scent of the blood running through his veins. _“I want that.”_

“I know. But you don’t want to hurt anyone, and you would have to hurt him to get it.”

 _“It smells so good.”_ The words were a wild, feral hiss through my teeth. _“I want it so much.”_

“You’re resisting though Esme, you’re holding back. Look at how well you’re doing! You’re being so strong now, and it’s just a little bit longer. Edward’s telling him that we know nothing, and then he’ll go away and the scent will be gone.  You can wait for that.”

“ _No!”_ Without conscious thought I was on my feet, crouched low as though to strike. The scent, so maddeningly enticing, was heavy in the air. _“I need it!”_

“Esme, no.” Carlisle was suddenly crouched in front of me, the two of us eye to eye. I could not keep still, weaving my head from side to side, my body trembling with frustrated desire, but in front of me Carlisle was still and calm. “Sweetness, look at me. You don’t need it…stay here with me.”

I looked at his face. It shone with the purity and strength of the archangel I always saw him as and I felt the roaring animal of thirst inside me falter. _I don’t want to do it…please, save me from myself!_

Without further thought I moved. Not to strike though, not to rush heedlessly out and fling myself at the prey that I wanted so desperately and that was so tantalisingly close…instead I moved towards Carlisle. I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around him so I could clutch at his broad back, and I buried my face in his chest so that for a moment all I could smell was him. Clover fields and fresh mown hay and cookies and sunshine...good things. S _afety and love and forever and Carlisle you won’t ever let me fall, will you, an archangel to carry me safely to heaven…how did I not know that I love you, that I’ve always loved you…_

His arms came around me, holding me tight, and I was not unaware enough to not notice the shiver that rippled through him at the contact. But before I could ponder it he curved his arms around me and his lips were by my ear, his words a caress when he whispered.

“It’s alright Esme, it’s done, it’s over…he’s going away now. You did it, sweetness, the temptation was there and you were so strong…you know what you are capable of now. You did it, my darling girl, you did it…”


	24. Matters of the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- I just want to say thank you to everyone who is reading, and say how happy I am that this story is getting some love! I think it’s way too easy to dismiss Esme as ‘mom Cullen’ and think she’s boring, but she’s got her own story and I think it’s a pretty good one. Not to mention her doctor and their beautiful love story. Again, it’s easy to overlook, but Carlisle was alone for 260 years before he found Esme and she gave him something he hadn’t even realised he wanted. Anyway, I am really enjoying this one, so thanks for reading and giving me the positive feedback that really inspires me to keep going!

 I made no move to extract myself and Carlisle did not release me until the stranger could be heard riding rapidly into the distance and Edward walked back into the room.

“He’s gone,” he said quietly. His face, flicking from Carlisle to me, was expressionless. “I told him you were still ill in bed, and that we haven’t been out. He believed me.”

“Thank you Edward,” Carlisle said sombrely. “It’s unfortunate that the family will never have an answer, but…” His voice trailed away. What could we do about that?

“Thank you,” I said to Edward, who refused to meet my eyes.

“Esme managed very well,” Carlisle told him lightly. “Perhaps preparation and confidence is key, and it will be easier from here on.”

“Perhaps.” Edward said nothing else as he left the room, and a moment later we heard the strains of the piano.

Carlisle too seemed a little uneasy in my presence. As he sat at the table he looked at me several times, as though he was about to speak, but each time he just shook his head and went back to his journal. I pretended to read for a little while before I murmured an excuse and slipped out of the room.

I let myself into the music room and leaned against the door, watching Edward’s back as he played. He didn’t stop, but he eventually looked at me over his shoulder with a faint smile, and I crossed the room to stand by the piano.

“You were listening to my thoughts back then, weren’t you?” I said. “You heard…”

“That you love him. Yes.” Edward’s voice was blunt.

Embarrassment flamed through me. It was one thing to know that Edward could hear thoughts, but it was quite another to have him confirm that he was aware of all my most private emotions. Because it wasn’t just that I’d acknowledged to myself how much I loved Carlisle in those few brief moments in his arms, with his whispered endearments in my ears. It was the way the physical closeness had sparked off other instincts, feelings that I’d thought long dormant after my miserable marriage… I tried to force my thoughts to something else, miserably conscious that Edward was aware of everything I thought.

“I don’t listen more than I can help,” Edward said stiffly. “I try to give you both what privacy I can.”

“You won’t tell him?” I said, abandoning embarrassment as useless. “Because I don’t want him to know. It’s not something he needs to worry about.”

“I won’t say anything.” Edward’s fingers played a slow, haunting melody. “I don’t say anything about things I hear…but he loves you too you know.”

I gripped the windowsill so hard my fingers crumbled the timber to splinters.

“He doesn’t realise it yet,” Edward went on conversationally. “He’s three hundred years old, but in matters of the heart he’s almost an innocent for all that. But I’ve heard so much from people’s minds over the last three years…and he _does_ love you.”

Edward’s tone strove for lightness, but I heard the slight thread of sadness beneath it and for the first time I felt pity for him. Half child and half man, and in his immortality never able to be fully one or the other. Hearing all the very best and worst of people, all those secret thoughts and fears and fantasies that we all kept private…

“It’s hard for you, isn’t it?” I said. “Being able to hear everything all the time?”

“Sometimes. People are both far better and far worse than I used to think they were.” Edward laughed a little. “Just sitting in class can be excruciating, hearing all the greedy and selfish and nasty thoughts drives me mad sometimes. Knowing everyone’s dirty little secrets even as you’re just being introduced to them. And sometimes it’s worse…when someone is _really_ cruel and has done things that really hurt people, but they’ve got away with it. Like your ex-husband.”

“What do you know of him?”

“More than I want to,” Edward said honestly. “You thought of him quite a lot during your change- you thought he had found you and that’s why you were in so much pain.”

I flinched. “He wasn’t a nice person.”

“There are more people like him than you know,” Edward said bleakly.

“But you must hear the other side too,” I protested quietly. “People who are good and kind and happy. There are those people too.”

“Like Carlisle,” Edward said, his face lightening. “I’m not sure that I would have been able to live so closely with most people, hearing their innermost thoughts all the time! But Carlisle is very different to most people.”

I caught the note of almost reverence that was there when Edward spoke of Carlisle. It was not the first time I had noticed it. It had always been clear that he loved Carlisle with an abiding love that went bone deep. Not romantic, but built on a foundation or enormous respect and admiration that I knew Carlisle returned.

“I don’t ever want to take him away from you,” I said softly. There was no point in concealment when it came to Edward and so I was direct as I spoke, despite my inner embarrassment. “You know I love him, you’ve heard that. But even if there is something between us, one day, it won’t change what you mean to him. It won’t change that the three of us, together, are already starting to feel like a family.”

Edward looked at me for a moment, and then smiled. “I think you’re quite different to most people too.”

I knew what he was saying, and I reached across and touched his shoulder gently as I grinned at him. The gap between Edward and I, a gap of age and gender and experiences…it narrowed that day, and the two of us became honest friends.

“I’ve got piano duets, if you want to play with me,” he offered, and aware of the honour he was bestowing on me by sharing his beloved piano I squeezed onto the bench beside him.

“Of course I’d love to play.”

____________________________________________

My success at resisting the siren call of human blood that day was only the beginning of a very long process of what Carlisle called desensitisation, and that I privately thought of as torture. Carlisle and Edward were nothing but encouraging, but there were many days when I was nearly in despair.

Carlisle hesitantly returned to his work at the hospital. He had taken two weeks off when he turned me, claiming to have come down with a case of measles, but he knew that the hospital needed him and he couldn’t stay away indefinitely. Each day Edward and I accompanied him on his journey to work, going only as far as the edges of town where I would smell the human scent and endure it for as long as I could. When I was almost at breaking point Edward and I would turn and flee home, usually hunting something on the way, while Carlisle continued towards the hospital.

Edward and I stayed close to home. I was frightened to expose myself to more temptation and I knew he was uncomfortable at the idea of having to stop me if I lost control. Neither of us really minded. Edward had his books and his music, and he was always happy to play games and talk to me. I spent a lot of time sketching and painting and reading, and sitting on the porch dreaming.

I also began the rather daunting task of turning Carlisle and Edward’s house into a home for all of us. Apart from the music room, which Edward maintained in a state of pristine order, the rest of the house was buried under layers of dust and grime and cobwebs. The two of them seemed oblivious to the air of neglect and disarray and the lack of the many homelike touches that I missed. It was all well and good to have a Van Gogh on display in the dining room, but if the mantelpiece underneath it was full of rubbish like nails, pens, unopened mail, and even a hoof pick it wasn’t doing much to make the room pleasing to look at!

“How do you live like this?” I asked in honest amazement one afternoon, holding up the hoof pick and waving at them accusingly. “This was on the mantelpiece…we don’t even own a horse!”

Carlisle looked up vaguely. “No, you’re right. We could probably get rid of it.”

“And all these books,” I persisted. “Is there a reason why they’re all stacked on the floor?”

“We don’t have enough bookcases,” Carlisle said mildly.

“We know where everything is,” Edward added.

“Is there a reason why you don’t acquire _more_ bookcases?” I asked in exasperation. “And a filing cabinet or two, perhaps? As far as I’m aware you’re not lacking in money. Do you enjoy living in squalor?”

“It’s not exactly squalor,” Edward protested. “I clean the music room.”

“Yes, so that means you must be aware of dust! Why it doesn’t bother you in the rest of the house I don’t know!”

Edward laughed at me. “I’ll help you clean up. And we can get more bookcases.”

“We could get a carpenter in to build some,” Carlisle suggested, laying down his book and looking up with more interest. “If we utilised most of the wall space in here and in the hall we might have enough shelving. Esme’s quite right Edward, we’ve been living like squatters. It’s time we grew up. Esme, you’re doing a wonderful job on the house and I promise that Edward and I will help you all we can. Just let me know what you need and I’ll bring it home to you.”

He lived up to his promise, and the three of us stripped back all the water stained, peeling wallpaper in the rooms and sanded the walls smooth before I painted them. Although my resistance to the smell of human blood was improving, I didn’t trust myself enough to go into town so I sent Carlisle to buy me fabric and fittings for window furnishing. He came home with a sewing machine as well, and soon the house was close to unrecognisable, so bright and pretty had we made it with curtains and floor rugs and throws to go over the shabby old furniture.

The carpenter came, and although my throat burned like fire and I felt as though I was on the brink of madness the whole time, I spoke to him easily enough and gave him directions for creating the built in shelving and filing cabinetry that we had decided we wanted. I’m not sure what he thought of us, three eccentrics living out in this isolated cottage and wanting shelving for thousands of books, many of them antique and written in foreign languages, but he was paid enough for his trouble that the work was finished quickly and without incident.

“It’s like a different house,” Carlisle said to me one morning, as he came home from the hospital and found me on the front porch, sanding back a rocking chair that I’d found in the barn. “It’s lovely to come home to.” He shifted the flat, narrow wooden box under his arm and his eyes lingered on me for a long moment.

“I’m glad you like it,” I said lightly. “I think we try so hard to live like humans, and our house should reflect that too.” I nodded at the parcel under his arm. “What have you got there?”

“Something for you,” Carlisle said, smiling bashfully and offering me the box. “For the house, but…for you.”

I put down the sandpaper and dusted my hands off on the oversized shirt I was wearing before I took the box. It was made of rough, slightly splintery wood, and without thinking about it I hooked my fingernails under one of the joins and prised it apart. Vampire strength and unbreakable fingernails came in handy more often than one would think.

The crate dismantled, I pulled out the packing and finally revealed three picture frames, each one containing a sketch of a flower. I stared at them for a long time, taking in the beautiful curves and delicate pencil strokes, amazed at how something so simple could evoke such emotion in me.

“Do you like them?” Carlisle asked, my long silence apparently making him apprehensive. “They’re by an American artist, a young woman who’s starting to make something of a name for herself in New York. Georgia O’Keeffe. She paints a lot of flowers, I thought about getting a painting but I liked the sketches…they’re so feminine, they reminded me of you…of course you mustn’t hang them if you don’t like them.”

“Hush.” I held up a hand, silencing him as I looked again at the sketches, framed so perfectly that I had instantly seen them hanging in the light of the music room. “Give me a moment to enjoy them.”

Carlisle chuckled and his face brightened as he sat down on the porch steps.

“They’re beautiful,” I said, lining them up along the side of the house and then scooting backwards to look at them from that distance. “She must be so talented!”

“We should take a trip to New York and go to some of the galleries there,” Carlisle suggested, adding diplomatically. “Maybe when you’re a little more settled.”

“When I won’t attack the artists?” I said dryly, turning my head and being a little disconcerted to find Carlisle sitting so close.

“It won’t be long. You’re doing very well.”

“Thank you for these,” I said softly. “I love them, and I love that you thought of me.”

“I often think of you,” Carlisle said haltingly. “You’ve…you’ve made this a home Esme, I appreciate everything you’ve done so much…” His voice faded away and he shrugged his shoulders a little helplessly, his dark golden eyes looking into mine. For a long moment we stared at each other, and then he smiled at me a little ruefully and headed into the house.

_The way you look says so much! Your eyes tell me that you love me too, so why won’t you say so in words?_


	25. Three

I went back to the rocking chair, sanding with such vigour I had stripped the paint and was in danger of destroying the frame itself within minutes. Edward came out of the house, giving me a grin and then looking down at the framed sketches.

“I’ll help you hang them in the music room,” he said, picking them up and dusting the frames. “They’ll look good in there.”

“He really is the most infuriating man sometimes,” I muttered with bad grace. No one would think he’d just bought me a very thoughtful and probably very expensive gift!

Edward laughed, looking back over his shoulder into the house. “He might hear you.”

“Hmph,” I said dismissively. “As if it would make any difference!”

I took a deep breath and forced myself to quiet. Certainly I was beginning to be a little frustrated by Carlisle’s reticence, but it wasn’t fair to burden Edward with my feelings on that subject. As embarrassed as I had been when he first became aware of my love for Carlisle, Edward was also embarrassed. Particularly when my thoughts about golden eyes and an archangel face and the body of a god began to drift in a certain direction…

Edward coughed and, guiltily, I wrenched my thoughts back to what was in front of me.

“I think I’ll just use some oil on this chair,” I said hastily. “It’s surprisingly good timber under that flaking paint job. It will look nice on the porch once I make a cushion for it.”

“Yes, it will be a nice place to sit,” Edward said, clearly relieved that I was no longer intent on thoughts of Carlisle. “Let’s go and hang these in the music room.”

After the frames were hung and I had admired them for a while, I went and leaned against the doorjamb of Carlisle’s medical study, watching as he knelt on the floor and flipped through one of his old medical journals.

“I’ve had an interesting case come into the hospital,” he told me absently. “I had a very similar case some time ago, so I want to cross reference the journal entries.”

I knew he had no need to cross reference the entries, his perfect recall made it superfluous. “Do you think someone else will read your journals one day?” I asked curiously. “Is that why you’re so meticulous with indexing and referencing?”

He looked up at me, considering. “I suppose I think they might be read, one day. It would be a pity to see the knowledge gained over so many years simply fade away, if something were to happen to me. During my studies I’ve learned so much from the writings of those who came before me, it seems only fair that I do what I can to pass it on.”

“How many of those journals do you have?”

Carlisle laughed. “A ridiculous amount for a modest man! Most of my earlier notes and journals are in the Volturi’s library in Volterra. I left them when I came to America, I knew they would be safe there and I wasn’t sure what my life would be like here. I keep some of my writing and journals in storage in New York and in Chicago, and the rest are here in the house.” He looked at me with wide eyes. “You know you may read them at any time if you wish? The medical journals are probably rather dry, but the personal journals you may find more interesting.”

The idea perked my interest. “I might do that.” Perhaps I would get to know him better through the memories he had chosen to record. “Where is Volterra?”

Carlisle looked surprised. “I thought I’d mentioned it to you?”

I shook my head.

“Volterra is in Italy.” A reminiscent smile crossed Carlisle’s face. “You probably don’t remember any longer, but you and I spent some time talking about Italy when you were in hospital with your broken leg. I told you I’d spent some time there…I was talking about the time I spent in Volterra, with the vampire coven that lives there called the Volturi.”

I didn’t tell Carlisle then that the two memories of my human life that remained dazzlingly clear were the feel of my baby in my arms, and the hours I spent with the vampire doctor, listening to his honeyed voice and watching his archangel face as he talked.

“You haven’t told me very much at all about other vampires,” I ventured.

“The Volturi are the closest thing vampires have to a government. They live in an enclave in the city of Volterra,” Carlisle told me. “Aro, Caius and Marcus rule, and they have a group of vampires who act as their guards and enforcers.”

I raised my eyebrows. “It sounds rather medieval.”

“It can be.” A faint frown crossed Carlisle’s face. “I lived with them for around two decades, and I still wouldn’t say I understand them. Aro is one of the most civilised vampires I have ever met, fascinated with the arts and sciences, with a deep thirst for knowledge and understanding…but there’s a deep streak of cruelty and brutality there despite that. Their entire society claims their purpose is maintaining secrecy and order in the vampire world, and yet they kill humans, and even sometimes vampires, with such disregard.”

“I’m surprised you stayed with them as long as you did.” Carlisle’s respect for human life was one of his most fundamental beliefs, and I found it hard to imagine him living for so long with people who didn’t share that.

Carlisle smiled wistfully. “They were so civilised compared to the only other vampires I’d met that I was half dazzled by the life they offered. They had collections of the most beautiful and important art and literature from all of Western Civilisation. The things I learned just from browsing in their library! And Aro himself had lived through three thousand years of history and had so much knowledge and insight. If it hadn’t been for the issue of…well, diet, then I may still be with them.”

“You couldn’t convince them to take up your human blood abstinence?” I asked with a giggle. “And here I thought you were irresistible!”

Carlisle laughed, his eyes bright. “Certainly not irresistible! Aro was fascinated, we talked about it often and he did hunt with me once, just for the experience. I suppose I hoped that he could be persuaded. But he thought it wasn’t possible to maintain and that it would weaken him over time …and that in the end it was an affront to vampirism, which is something that he holds sacred.” Carlisle shrugged.

“You never managed to convince _anyone_ to try it?”

Carlisle seemed amused. “I guess I’m not much of an evangelist. I have many vampire friends who regard me as anything from a little eccentric to downright crazy…we enjoy spending time together but I’ve never managed to convince anyone that this is a worthwhile way to live. The only other vampires I know who share this diet, a coven in Alaska, came to it by their own path.” He smiled at me self deprecatingly. “You and Edward are my only converts!”

I laughed a little, but I couldn’t help asking, “All these vampire friends…you never found someone you wanted to stay with? Someone special?” I hoped my voice didn’t betray the sudden, sharp feeling of jealousy in my heart.

“No. I’ve known some wonderful, extraordinary vampires that I’m proud to call friends, but no one special. Not like that.” Carlisle rubbed the back of his neck self consciously and looked away.

I hid my smile. As infuriating as it could be sometimes, I loved the shy, bashful side to Carlisle. I was beginning to understand him too, and how three hundred years of self denial and self restraint had played their part in shaping the man who now sat before me.

This golden man I was in love with; that I would wait for as patiently as I could for as long as it took him to open his eyes and see what was right in front of him.

_________________________________________________

It was morning, the dawn still an hour or so away, and I was feeling restless. Edward had been teaching me French, something he had begun learning at school as a human and had become fluent at in his vampire life, and despite it being enjoyable I was tired of it.

“Why don’t you go and hunt?” Edward suggested, closing the book. “You could meet Carlisle- his shift will be finished soon.”

“I suppose I may as well.” My thirst was not extreme, but feeding would be welcome. “Do you want to come?”

“I’ll stay here if you don’t mind,” Edward answered. “You know the music composition I was creating, I think I’ve worked out a better bridge and I want to try it. If it works I’ll play it for you and Carlisle when you return.”

He sounded excited about getting to work on his music so I nodded and headed outside. I kicked off my shoes on the porch so I could move through the forest on bare, silent feet, while I kept my senses alert for any inviting scents. The morning was cold, and the forest around me seemed still and almost deserted.

It was lovely to be out alone for a little while. I was able to hunt on my own and did on occasion, but the majority of time I went out with either Carlisle or Edward. While my relationship with Carlisle still felt unsettled to me, my friendship with Edward had grown into something very real and helpful for us both. He was my companion for many of the hours that Carlisle spent at the hospital, and he taught me a great deal about being a vampire. He taught me to play games to pass the time and when he discovered my interest in going to Europe one day he began to teach me French with that in mind. As Carlisle had said, there was a goodness in Edward that drew people to him, and in many ways he was an extraordinary soul.

At the same time though, Edward was still little more than a child, and as he grew to know and trust me he became more willing to share his vulnerabilities. He had a deep streak of melancholy in him, and philosophical questions that Carlisle was happy to ponder would torment Edward. He was attending classes at college and when he struggled with maintaining the pretence of humanity there it was me he turned to. He didn’t ever want Carlisle to feel disappointed with him, and although I knew he never would I also didn’t mind that Edward came to me. The more I got to know him the more I grew to love him, with a peculiar mix of emotion that encompassed friend love, sibling love, and maternal love, because somehow Edward became all that to me.

He saw me that way too. If Carlisle had become Edward’s mentor and father figure in his vampire life, then Edward had begun to assign me the maternal role. I was honoured that he had chosen to see me that way, because I knew how much he had loved and now missed his own mother.

I loved it too. I loved taking care of them, loved feeling that pull of family, loved having them take care of me in turn. I wanted to be what they needed, whether that be a friend, a sibling or a mother. Or something else, that a certain someone didn’t know how to ask for.

I was close to town when I first smelled the smoke, but I paid it little attention. It wasn’t uncommon for men to go out collecting firewood in the forest and light a small fire for warmth and to boil a cup of tea. I should have noted it and prepared myself, but months of success with resisting human blood had made me careless of the need for vigilance. So I didn’t give the wisp of smoke a second thought, and when it was followed by a drift of scent so deliciously enticing that once again instinct roared and rationality vanished, my defences were so unprepared as to be non existent.

I ran, diving the last distance to reach him, my face buried in his neck and my teeth tearing into the pulsing river of blood beneath his skin before he even knew what was happening. He certainly didn’t make a sound, and I would always hope that he hadn’t known what was happening and that in the confused final moments of his life he hadn’t been afraid.

At the time I thought nothing, felt nothing but the blinding wave of pleasure as that overwhelming desire was satisfied. Blood, thick and warm and richly exquisite ran down my throat and my body burned in pleasure as it gave me life. _Oh, oh, oh so good!_

The shot missed me, the bullet ploughing into the dirt only inches away and I raised my head and stared in sudden, horrified realisation. A body in my arms, the head nearly severed from the savagery of my attack…and a second man, very much alive as he stood on the opposite side of the fire and pointed a rifle at me.

“Get away from him, you murdering bitch!”

A moment of clarity…but it wasn’t long enough and I wasn’t strong enough. Instead, reason was drowned by brutal, primitive instinct. I’d just fed, but it didn’t matter when I could hear his terrified heart beat and smell his blood tinged with fear and there was nothing he could do to stop me as I struck.

My second killing, and my death toll rose to three. Three lives lost to me, three faces I would never forget, three times I had failed.

“Esme!”

I turned my head at the voice and snarled, but then I saw the familiar face and I faltered. Carlisle.

I dropped the body and back away from the carnage I had wrought, my fists pressing into my mouth to hold back my horrified screams.

“Oh God, oh God, I did it again…”

I could see Carlisle’s indecision. But the men were dead, and I was…still alive. He came towards me, his hands out and his eyes huge. “Esme…”

I shook my head frantically. “NO! Don’t come near me!”

“Please calm down,” Carlisle said soothingly. “We’ll deal with this. We’ll do something…”

“Do what?” I screamed at him. “There’s nothing we CAN do, because they’re dead and _I killed them!_ You can’t even give them _this_ life, because I’ve torn them apart and killed them…oh, I hate myself for this and I hate you for making me like this!”

I wasn’t quick enough as I turned and fled, and I saw the look on his face at my words. Saw the guilt and the grief come crashing down on him as he bowed his head in defeat.


	26. Loved You All Along

I ran through the forest, faster and further than I’d ever been before, heartsick over what I’d done. Two more men that I would carry on my conscience for eternity, their lives cut short so brutality.

_And Carlisle saw it. Saw me being nothing but an animal out of control, a monster…no wonder he doesn’t love me!_

I moaned piteously and slowed my run to a walk as I found myself on the high bluffs overlooking the water. The sun was rising, and as my skin began to reflect the growing brightness I found a deeply shadowed niche between the trees and sat down, shrinking into myself.

I wished I could cry. My body burned and shook with the emotional storm and there was no release, nothing to ease the brutal and agonising knowledge of what I was and what I had done.

_You’re a murderer Esme, and even if you can’t help it that doesn’t change the fact that three men are dead at your hands, and their life blood is humming in your body right now…you’re a monster, a devil from hell, and you should die before you can go on and do that to more innocent people._

I whimpered, burying my face in my hands. My soul writhed in shame over what I had done and I hated myself for what I had become. Those poor men! To have ended their lives and left their families bereft was almost more than I could bear.

Almost as bad was the fact that I had let Carlisle down. I had failed to live up to all his faith and belief in me and surely now all trust and friendship between us must be ruined, because how could he ever love me now? How could a man so good, so firm and unshakeable in his faith and beliefs, ever love someone as weak and fallible as I was? Once was a mistake and he had forgiven me, but to kill again, and twice this time! I closed my eyes and shuddered.

I thought at first I was imagining it, when I heard his voice. That deep, rich voice that always sounded as sweet and smooth as honey to me. I was surprised to hear it, and even more surprised when I realised it held no anger or recrimination, just a tender concern.

“Esme, I’ve been following you…I’m so glad I found you.”

I shook my head and looked away, feeling small and dark and ugly beside the glorious golden perfection of him. How could he not loathe me the way I now loathed myself? How could he look at my face, smeared with blood and with my eyes the bright crimson red of the killer I was, and not be repulsed?

I didn’t deserve his forgiveness, but my heart ached for it even as I couldn’t ask. _Carlisle…I’m sorry._

“Esme, it was an accident.”

“Go away,” I mumbled, refusing to look at him. “Don’t talk to me. I don’t…don’t deserve…” My voice cracked.

“It was an accident. I know you wouldn’t have done it on purpose. A sad and tragic accident, but you must just take what lessons from it you can and look forward. You’re doing your best.”

I kept my face averted. “I can’t do it. It’s too hard…I’m not like you! I’m not good enough!”

“You are _more_ than good enough!” There was more ferocity in Carlisle’s voice than I had ever heard from him.

“I’m not! You know I’m not, I don’t have the strength of will that you and Edward have. I’m always going to fail and I’m always going to let you down!”

“You could never let me down,” Carlisle’s voice was low. “I believe in you. You’ve tried. You’re still trying. Your heart is good and kind and loving and I _know_ you will succeed at this.”

“How can you even look at me though, knowing what I’ve done?”

“How could I turn away?” Carlisle said simply.

Slowly and hesitantly I turned my face to his. Almost without thinking about it I reached out my hand and traced the curve of his cheekbone and jaw, seeing once again the perfect strength and beauty of his face. Carlisle sat unmoving and unblinking, his golden eyes never leaving my red ones, as I ran my fingers across his lips and then leaned forward and brushed my lips across his.

His mouth was so soft and his scent, when I was so close to his skin, was exhilarating. I pulled away for a moment, just to savour the anticipation, and then I cupped my hands around his face and kissed him again, abandoning myself to the sensual pleasure of his lips on mine.

Carlisle’s arms wrapped around me and pulled me hard against him, his hands stroking my hair and back and neck as he kissed me. Soft and sweet and fierce and passionate…it was as though time stopped as I lost myself in the sheer bliss of finally being with this man that I so loved.

“Esme…Esme…” Carlisle murmured my name as his lips travelled across my face, catching my lower lip in his, teasing me with butterfly kisses on my nose and then trailing down my neck. He looked half dazed. “I didn’t know…”

“You knew,” I whispered, laying my hand on his chest, over where his heart had once beat. “You knew it in here…I have loved you all along.”

Carlisle caught up my hand in his and pressed it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. “Darling girl.”

I smiled at him. “I was tired of waiting for you…I thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind if I let you know how I felt.”

Carlisle ducked his head bashfully, but I could still see the grin splitting his face. “Not at all. I’ve thought about…that, so often. But you’re so new, and I didn’t want to take advantage of you, and…” He shrugged awkwardly. “In nearly three hundred years I’ve never felt for another what I feel for you. I was unsure how to proceed.”

I giggled at the formality of him, and he laughed a little too, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You will have to be patient with me,” he said lightly.

I linked my fingers though his and squeezed his hand before I sobered. “You will need to be patient with _me_ …I meant what I said before. I don’t know if I can do this Carlisle. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist the way you and Edward do.”

“You don’t need my forgiveness,” Carlisle told me gently. “You have not failed me in any way. But you need to forgive yourself, sweetness. Look at your heart…your intentions are pure. Mistakes may happen, and you can mourn them but you can’t change it. Just look at your heart and keep trying.”

I rested my face against his shoulder for a moment. “What will we do? About those men?”

Carlisle sighed heavily. “I don’t really know. We should go back and see if there is anything. Perhaps Edward has an idea.”

I rose to my feet and brushed off my skirt, wincing as I once again took in the spatter of blood drops across the front of my blouse. I knew that I had killed them, the truth of that could not be changed, but perhaps we could think of someway that the bodies might be returned to the families, so that they could mourn properly. I took Carlisle’s hand and began following my trail back where I had come from.

Edward met us before we came within scenting distance of the clearing where I had left such carnage, his face serious.

“We can’t do anything,” he said flatly. “They’ve been discovered.”

Carlisle gripped my hand more tightly. “Tell me.”

“They had other men joining them to cut down some larger trees. They arrived to find them killed. They thought it was probably animals, although they’re confused as to why the bodies would still be there. They’ve called in the sheriff and I think there will be an investigation.”

I couldn’t stop my shamed whimper, and Edward shook his head at me kindly. “Don’t get upset Esme.”

“Let’s go home,” Carlisle said finally. “There’s nothing we can do, and it’s best we just behave normally. We certainly don’t want to be discovered out here in the forest.” He couldn’t stop the brief flick of his eyes to the spots of blood on my shirt.

I shuddered and withdrew my hand from his, wrapping my arms around myself and trudging back to the house without looking at either of them. The shame of what I’d done and sorrow for the men whose lives had been lost hung heavily over me, and I miserably conscious of the blood stained shirt and my crimson red eyes.

At home I went into the kitchen and silently washed myself clean and dressed in fresh, ironed clothes. I took the blood stained shirt and scrubbed it until I wore holes in the fabric, but the mark of my guilt didn’t disappear. I was balling it up and heading towards the trashcan on the porch to get rid of it when I heard hoof beats approaching and smelled once again the scent of humans.

“Don’t worry, Esme,” Carlisle murmured, at my side in a moment. “I’ll talk to them. Go into the study with Edward.”

I moved silently into the study. Edward was leaning against the wall beside the door with his arms folded across his chest, and I sat on the sofa and stared down at my folded hands. Both of us listened to the sounds of two horses in the yard, snorting and stamping about as two men swung down from their saddles.

“Dr Cullen! I didn’t realise it was you who lived so far out here!”

“Good morning Lukas! Yes, this is where I live. A bit of a distance from the hospital, but I enjoy the forest and the privacy on my time off,” Carlisle answered, sounding completely relaxed. “What can I do for you?”

“This is Harry, and he and I have just come from closer in to town. A couple of our friends were out cutting wood over near the Greenbrook track and we were supposed to join them. But when we found them….Christ Carlisle, I haven’t ever seen anything like it.”

“Has there been an accident? Should I get my bag?”

Carlisle sounded genuinely concerned. For a man who held integrity in such regard, he was certainly a very skilled liar!

“No, there’s no need for a doctor.” The man, Lukas, sounded bleak. “They’re both dead, both with the throats torn out of them. I’ve no idea what would do something like that…must be some kind of animal though.”

Carlisle made a concerned noise.

“We’re just coming along the track to warn folks that there might be something out there,” interjected a new voice. “It must have been something pretty big and fearsome to have got the best of those two, they were both experienced woodsmen and good hunters, so we think people need to be wary.”

“Especially with that Dan Martin fellow going missing on the track a little while back,” Lukas added. “They never found his body. But added together it makes you worry. We’ll be heading out into the forest later today to see what we can find, but there are no real trails or evidence at the site for us to follow. I don’t know if you’re in the habit of wandering about out there, but you’d be best to stay out of the forest for a little while.”

“Indeed,” Carlisle said. “Thank you for the warning, gentleman, I’ll be sure to take care.”

“You’ve got something to protect yourself with?” Lukas asked. “A good gun? Seriously Carlisle, those men were ripped savagely apart…you walking through the forest alone right now isn’t really a good idea. And you’ve a younger brother that lives with you too?”

“Oh yes, Edward. He’s a skilled marksman and I’d trust my life to him. We’ve got the means to protect ourselves here. But thank you for the warning, and let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Carlisle remained at the door as the men said their goodbyes and mounted the horses again. None of us moved until the sound of hoof beats faded away, and then I dropped my face into my hands again and Carlisle came back to the study.

“I don’t think they’ll come back,” he said.

“They think you’re odd though,” Edward told him. “He hadn’t known you lived out here, and now he’s wondering about how long it takes you travel to the hospital, and why you would live out here in the middle of nowhere when your work is in town. He wonders why you don’t have a wife, and if I am in fact your brother or…something else.” He didn’t sound amused.

“Oh,” Carlisle said blankly. “You really think that’s what he thinks? Oh…silly question, sorry…”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, looking over to Edward beseechingly. “Please forgive me Edward. I know what I did was terrible, and it’s bringing such trouble to you and Carlisle and I’m so sorry for that.”

Edward shook his head. “That’s not important. It’s not trouble when it’s family.” He smiled at me for a moment, but then his smile faded and he said quietly, “I think we should strongly consider moving.”

I couldn’t help but flick a quick glance around the house, which was starting to feel like home after I’d done so much work to make it nice.

“Not just because of what happened today,” Edward added. “But Esme is somewhat trapped at home. As long as we live here in Ashland she can’t go freely about in town in case she comes across someone she knew as a human. And how do we even introduce her to people, like the builder, who come to the house? I’m supposed to be your brother, but how do we explain how Esme fits in to the family?” His eyes met mine and I saw the spark of mischief in them. “Although, perhaps you two have some new thoughts on that?”

I giggled as Carlisle looked mortified, and Edward made a face and laughed at both of us.

“You might be right about moving,” Carlisle said thoughtfully, trying to get the discussion back on track. “It’s never good if we’ve attracted attention or speculation about the way we live. Once people notice one or two odd things, they tend to focus on them and more quirks come to their attention.”

“Would you be happy to move?” Edward asked me directly. “I know you like this house, but I thought you might like to be able to go out more freely. We could look for a smaller town too, which might make resisting temptation a little easier.”

I nodded. “If you both think it’s best. You’re right that I like this house, but I can like another one just as well. And besides, fixing up this one was so much fun that I would quite like to do again.” I dropped my eyes. “I’m just so sorry that my actions make it necessary though. I feel so guilty that it’s all my fault.”

“Please don’t,” Edward said earnestly. “We’re a family, the three of us, and that means we help and support each other all we can.”

“Even when it comes to this? To me violating the very basis of the way we live?”

“Especially when it comes to this,” Carlisle said tenderly, his eyes soft. “Who else would understand just how difficult it is but us? We know what it’s like Esme, and we’re not judging, believe me. We’re at your back while you fight, and we’ll always be here…no matter what.”


	27. A Second Chance

We could hear them out in the forest during the afternoon. A group of men hunting a mythical beast, while all the time I sat quietly in the dining room and read one of Carlisle’s journals. Carlisle sat opposite me, periodically gazing at me with a look of such joyous wonder that it made my stone vampire heart feel warm with love.

_He loves me. Despite everything, he loves me._

Edward sat beside me, flipping through an atlas and an almanac and occasionally suggesting places we might relocate to. I became interested in his search, and he shifted both books over so that I might see too.

“We really might go anywhere?” I said in amazement. From my dim human memories I could remember how long and overwhelming my journey from Ohio to Wisconsin had been. On the map however, it really didn’t seem like any distance at all compared to other states!

“Anywhere you like,” Carlisle answered, before adding with a chuckle. “Medicine is fortunately a very portable career.”

“I wouldn’t even know how to begin to choose,” I said uncertainly. “I never travelled further from the farm where I was born than Columbus before I left Ohio. And even then I only took the train to Milwaukee and then came here to Ashland. What about you, Edward?”

“I was born and lived in Chicago,” Edward replied, pointing to it on the map. “Carlisle and I moved to a small town in Illinois after I was changed. The sheer mass of human thought in the city was unbearable for me, even without the torment of the thirst.” He shuddered.

“Edward and I stayed there until he felt settled and more confident, and then we moved here to Ashland,” Carlisle interjected.

“So where do you think we should look?” Edward directed his question at Carlisle now. “You’ve obviously been to many more places than Esme and I!”

Carlisle laughed. “Well, I suppose one does get around a little in two hundred years,” he admitted. “I have a large map in my study that I’ve traced the route on…it’s certainly looking busy.”

“How did you ever decide where to go?” I asked curiously.

“I went where I could work as a medical doctor. I had studied in Europe, but didn’t practise independently until I came to the New World. As a single man it’s very easy to move about the country quite anonymously, and I was more interested in my work than in my surroundings.” Carlisle thoughtfully tapped his fingers on the table. “It’s quite different now though, isn’t it? There’s a great deal more than simply my job to take into consideration. A suitable location has to include opportunities for hunting, for work, for education and for privacy. The population needs to be large enough that we can maintain some level of anonymity, but not so large that the temptation of human blood around us is too strong.”

“That narrows it down a little,” Edward said. “I’ll come up with some ideas Carlisle, and then we can all look at them a little more closely.”

Edward did just that, and when evening approached and Carlisle left for the hospital he did so with a letter of resignation in hand, as well as several letters of enquiry for hospitals in possible locations for our move.

I was restless once he was gone, my mood going from wildly euphoric as I thought about kissing him to plunging down into deep despair as I remembered killing. I went to the music room and played the gramophone, flipping through Edward’s vast collection of records and trying new things in an effort to distract myself.

_that blood was so good oh I’m a killer I don’t deserve any of these good things how can I go on oh I want more oh stop it!_

“Esme, please stop tormenting yourself.”

I started, having been so immersed in my own gloomy thoughts that I hadn’t noticed Edward coming into the room behind me. He gave me a weak smile, his face tired and drawn.

“I know you feel badly. I would too. But it’s not as though you made a choice to go out and take a life. You’re a good person Esme, you have one of the kindest and most loving minds I have ever heard, and this one act doesn’t define you.”

I brushed my hair back and sighed. “Thank you.”

“I mean it. I hear people’s thoughts all the time, the good and the bad, and there are very few minds I have ever come across that are as beautiful as yours.” Edward shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “Remorse is natural, but don’t let yourself drown in it. There is a very long future ahead of us all, and we have to keep our minds on moving forward.”

“I’m just so ashamed,” I said quietly. “You and Carlisle both abstain, have _always_ abstained, and I can’t.”

“It’s a very small sample size you’re looking at,” Edward said with a grin. “Really, if you look at it like that you could argue that a third of vampires will make mistakes with this diet. It doesn’t seem so dire then!”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Lies, damned lies, and statistics,” I quoted, and Edward joined my laughter.

“And you and Carlisle…” he added shyly. He wasn’t looking at me now and he rumpled his hair self-consciously. “I want to say – although this might be somewhat awkward for us! – that I’m happy for you Esme. You and Carlisle both. You’re my favourite people in the world and I think you deserve each other! I’ll try not to get in your way too much.”

“Oh, Edward!” He could be funny and awkward about physical contact, but I leaned over and hugged him anyway. “You’re not in the way! I don’t know how I would have managed if you hadn’t been here all this time. I’m so lucky to have had you to be my friend.”

It was bright and beautiful smile that lit up Edward’s face then, and I impulsively kissed his cheek and felt my guilt ease a little. I would always be sorry that the mistakes I made in trying to live up to my aspirations meant human death and sorrow, but Edward was right. The future was long, and I simply had to do my best and count my blessings that I had these two men to help me along the way.

Edward and I spent the night in the music room. We played many of the records, and then Edward tried to play many of pieces on the piano. He was remarkably successful at it, and I was once again impressed by his musical gift.

“How will we move all these?” I asked at one point, gesturing to the contents of the music room.

Edward frowned. “We’ll box everything up and hire someone with a cart to move it all.” He looked pained. “Goodness knows what that’s going to do to the piano though! I wish we could do it ourselves, but the problem is the horse- animals sense that we’re a threat and if we tried to drive a horse ourselves the beast would go mad with terror. Of course with our strength it would hardly be a challenge to just pull a cart ourselves, or even carry the piano, but that would look more than a little bizarre to any human who saw us.”

I giggled, and Edward grinned. “I think we should get an automobile,” he confided. “So much better for us than a horse! Carlisle is interested in the idea too, but he’s cautious about buying one until we’ve moved and assessed the situation in the new town. It wouldn’t do to roll up in a brand new automobile and draw too much attention.” Edward sighed a little sadly. “I can’t wait for the day that everyone has them and there are good roads everywhere and not just in the city!”

We went back to our music and I was almost surprised when I heard the familiar cadence of Carlisle’s run as he returned home. It was later than he usually returned and the sun was quite high in the sky. Edward heard him too and smiled at me vaguely as he rose and left the room, greeting Carlisle in the hallway. I heard his footsteps vanish into the forest as Carlisle entered the music room.

“Hello.”

“Hello! How was work?” I felt absurdly awkward, more so than I ever had with Carlisle before. The previous day’s events had irrevocably changed our relationship but I didn’t yet know how the two of would be together. Part of me wished I could just jump into his arms and kiss him with wild abandon, whereas the rest of me was quite embarrassed to even be thinking that way! Confused, I knelt up and began returning the records to their places on the shelves.

Carlisle knelt down to help me. “Work was interesting. I had a case of appendicitis and had to do an emergency appendectomy. The surgery was quite successful, which is fortunate. I quite enjoy the surgical work, although of course I don’t do a great deal of it during these night shifts.”

I shuddered at the thought of being deep in a human’s body and having all that tempting blood so close and available. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Years and years of practice,” Carlisle said lightly, touching me on the nape of my neck as I replaced the final record on the shelf.

I turned to him with a smile and it felt nothing but natural to move into his arms and kiss him.

“I missed you,” he said huskily. “I kept thinking of you, and wanting to come home to you.”

I stroked his face, thinking how perfectly happy and content I felt. “It’s so _easy_ with you,” I said wonderingly. “To love you and be right here with you…it’s just so easy and feels so right. Like it’s meant to be.”

Carlisle cupped my face in both hands and traced kisses across my cheeks, ending at my lips. “Maybe it was. Three hundred years and now there’s you…I feel like I was always waiting for you, even if I didn’t know it.”

I kissed him again, fleetingly grateful that Edward had gone and was not somewhere in the house listening to my tender thoughts.

“I was going to do this properly,” Carlisle said, suddenly bashful as he pulled away a little. “I was thinking of grand romantic gestures and yet…I don’t want to do it like that. I want to give you my heart Esme, plain and strong and true. I love you, and when we move I want to be able to introduce you as my wife. I want to marry you, and spend forever by your side. Please say yes.”

It’s quite a good thing vampires don’t need oxygen, because I absolutely forgot to breathe as I stared at him in sheer amazement. “You…want…to…marry…me.” I could barely get the words out.

Carlisle looked a little alarmed. “Well, not if you object, of course!”

“I don’t object,” I said dazedly. “I don’t object at all…I just never expected…we’re _vampires_ , Carlisle. Do you really think that drinking blood goes with white wedding gowns and gold rings?”

Carlisle laughed, and the sound was bright and joyous. “I love you. And I want to marry you because I want to stand up in front of God and all the world and _say_ that I love you, and that I will honour and cherish and care for you for as long as we live. Being a vampire doesn’t have anything to do with the way I feel about you.” He brushed a hand over my hair and looked at me tenderly. “And you don’t have to wear a white wedding gown if you don’t want to, but I would like very much to buy you a ring.”

“I want to marry you more than anything,” I said sincerely, but I hesitated and played with a button on his waistcoat before I ventured, “But I’m…sort of…married already.”

“Oh yes, Charles,” Carlisle looked thoughtful. “It doesn’t matter to me, but if it concerns you we could perhaps talk with my lawyer about you obtaining a divorce? That would mean getting in touch with Charles and might take some time, but it could be done. Although legally…I’m not sure if you’re still alive, my love. And since I was born over three hundred years ago, I’m in somewhat of a grey area when it comes to my legal existence.” He gave me a rueful smile. “For someone who strives to live with honesty and integrity, I really do tell a lot of untruths!”

I giggled and pressed my lips to his neck. “I’d rather not have anything else to do with Charles ever, if it can be helped,” I whispered. I was no longer afraid of my husband, but I didn’t want him to have any part in this strangely wonderful new existence of mine.

“I know of someone who can create false papers for a fee,” Carlisle said carefully. “I found him when we were sorting out Edward’s affairs and if we need anything like that we can call on him. We can manage the legalities of it in any way you wish, but it’s the meaning behind the wedding ceremony that matters the most to me.”

For a moment I just sat there, safe and loved in the circle of his arms, and remembered the dark night on the cliff and the way despair had driven me to hopelessness. I hadn’t been able to see the light that night. I hadn’t known that there was a way past grief and the potential for happiness in my future, and from this side of that despair I was so grateful that Carlisle had intervened and I had been given this second chance.


	28. The End of the Wait

“Esme?” Edward knocked on the kitchen door.

“Come in!” I replied brightly, taking a final look at myself in the mirror hung over the water pump. My hair was bound loosely and pinned low on my head, adorned with the antique bone combs that Carlisle had given me as a gift.

Edward stepped through the door, smiling at me. He was wearing his best suit and had even combed his hair for the occasion. “You look lovely,” he complimented me.

I twitched at my dress a little self-consciously. It was a beautiful dress and I was secretly quite delighted with my appearance for the day, but it felt a little awkward and strange to have Edward notice and comment.

“Thank you,” I said. “You’re looking very well too- you’re very handsome anyway, but formal clothes always give a man an extra edge!”

“Well, I put in the effort today,” Edward said with a grin. “After all, it’s not every day that someone’s pseudo parents get married!”

I hugged him. The family we had created was always evolving, but I loved where my relationship with Edward had fallen. He was my friend, but it was more than that. He was more experienced in this life than I was, he was a brilliant man with an extraordinary mind, but he was also a boy who missed his mother for all that. And I was a mother without a son. Both of us found that the other filled a little niche in our lives and I for one felt very blessed to have him there.

“I love you,” I told him sincerely. “I really do. Now, are we ready to go?”

“In a moment,” Edward said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet bag. “I wanted to give you a gift first.”

“Oh Edward! I wasn’t expecting any gifts!”

“It was my mother’s,” Edward told me, watching me as I opened the bag and tipped the contents onto my hand. “I have all her jewellery and I wanted to give this to you to celebrate today.”

It was a silver chain that fell into my hand, embellished with a pendant of delicate silver swirls surrounding a blue stone, with smaller hanging diamonds. It was beautiful, but mostly I was just touched beyond words that Edward had given me something that meant so much to him. I hugged him again and kissed his cheek before I fastened the chain around my neck. “Thank you.”

Edward kissed my cheek. “I have to do something…you can go out to the porch, I’ll be out in a moment.”

I walked through the house to the porch, where Carlisle was sitting patiently on the rocker. He sprang to his feet at my arrival, his eyes fastened on me as he held out his hands. “Esme. You look exquisite.”

“Now, now, let’s not get carried away,” I said lightly, but I gave him my hand and ducked my head to hide my smile.

“I’m speaking only the truth,” Carlisle replied, lacing his fingers through mine and then raising my hand to kiss my knuckles. “You’re beautiful, and I shall be so proud to call you my bride today.”

“Okay, let’s save it for after the wedding,” Edward said impatiently, appearing behind me. “The minister will be expecting us.”

The three of us headed towards town moving fast through the cold forest, ice frosting the grass in the open clearings.  I didn’t let go of Carlisle’s hand. This wedding, this pledging of my forever life to his, was what I wanted more than anything, and I could barely contain my happiness.

We moved at a slower, more human pace as we approached the town and the church built on the outskirts. Carlisle would have made it possible for us to marry in any of the more elaborate churches in town, but I had wanted the ceremony to take place in the simple church closest to our house. It was small and old, built of mellowed brick with ivy growing over the side wall and graceful willows shading the old gravestones in the yard. It would be pretty and private to marry there, and I didn’t want a fancy affair. I didn’t wear white, although my dress was a beautiful sky blue silk with delicate embroidery, and I had shaken my head when Carlisle offered to buy me jewels. I wore only the gold band with the simple diamond setting that he had given me as an engagement gift, and now the pendant from Edward. I remembered, vaguely, my wedding to Charles and all the friends and family that had gathered and the party afterwards. I didn’t want a repeat of that. This wedding was about Carlisle and I, and with Edward standing as a witness and a minister to give a blessing over our union I had everything I wanted.

As I had wanted, the ceremony was very simple. Carlisle had given the minister a copy of the prayers his father the pastor would have used at weddings in his human life and asked our minister to include them, and the nervous young clergyman had obliged. I had walked the aisle to meet him alone, carrying a small spray of hardy winter flowers, my face wreathed in smiles. The church organist played for us, and was our second witness for signing the registry.

We had had to have birth records created by Carlisle’s acquaintance, and I was married under my maiden name of Esme Platt. It gave me an odd feeling to sign the registry with that name, knowing that I would never use it again and that from then on I would always be Esme Cullen. It made me smile to think of it though, as I looked from my signature to Carlisle’s strong, neat hand beside it, and _Edward Masen Cullen_ in beautiful script below as our witness.

Carlisle kissed me at the end, lips soft and tender against mine and it was as though I felt my heart jump with the promise of things to come. I had forgotten all about Edward, until I heard his smothered laugh from behind me, and I stepped away from Carlisle almost guiltily. Oh dear…this was going to be very awkward.

“Not _totally_ awkward,” Edward said to me dryly. “I’m going hunting somewhere VERY far away. Perhaps Alaska. Or Australia. Either way, I’m not coming home for a very long time!”

I would have blushed if it was possible, but I didn’t hide my relief. I had assumed Edward would make himself scarce immediately after the wedding, but knowing that he planned to give Carlisle and I plenty of time alone to navigate the next step in our relationship removed one worry from my mind. Of course Edward’s telepathy and marital privacy between Carlisle and I would be something we would all have to deal with at _some_ point…but I was fervently glad that it wouldn’t be this first time.

Carlisle pretended he didn’t understand Edward’s underlying meaning, and just clasped his hand. “Thank you,” he said to him, his voice low. “Thank you for standing by my side today.” He said no more, but I saw the look that passed between them.

“I’ll be at least a week,” Edward said. “I’d give you longer, but moving…”

“That’s fine,” Carlisle assured him. “A week will be fine, and then we’ll organise packing and moving. Thank you again, Edward.”

After Edward strode off in the direction of town, Carlisle and I strolled leisurely back towards home. I think both of us were tightly wound up with anxious anticipation but I know that I, at least, didn’t feel any need to rush. This moment, the two of us alone, the wedding behind us and married life ahead of us…it felt wonderful.

“You’re not thirsty?” Carlisle asked.

I shook my head. “No. Not after yesterday.” In anticipation of having to stand in close proximity to the human minister in a state of nervous excitement I had take the precaution of hunting the day before, absolutely gorging myself. My eyes in the mirror that morning had been the lightest I’d yet seen them.

The house came into view, and as we ascended the porch steps Carlisle squeezed my hand and gave me a secret smile. “I’ve got something to show you,” he said.

“Oh?” Intrigued, I let him lead me into the house, along the hall and to the doorway to the front room, where he opened the door and gestured me inside with a shy smile.

I stepped into the room and then stopped, staring around me in stunned pleasure. What had been a dusty, neglected room full of Carlisle’s books and boxes of files had been transformed. The walls and floor had been scrubbed, a thick cream rug woven with a pattern of roses spread on the floor and matching curtains hung at the window, pulled close to block out the sunlight. There was a beautiful teak washstand and dressing table topped with an oval mirror, as well as a matching armoire. There was also an enormous bed, draped in cream brocade linens, with an elaborately carved teak bedhead.

“Oh Carlisle!” I couldn’t help my spontaneous exclamation. “It’s lovely!” Indeed, it was a beautiful room of feminine luxury and quite different to the austere and utilitarian non-décor Carlisle and Edward had created in the rest of the house.

Carlisle smiled at me a little bashfully. “I know we’re planning on relocating very soon, but I thought you might like this in the meantime. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Well, it is!” I stepped in, automatically slipping off my shoes with their scandalously high heels so that I could sink my toes into the thick rug. “I had no idea you were doing all this!”

“Edward was a great help,” Carlisle confessed. “He did much of the work while we were out hunting.”

“I shall be sure to thank him,” I said lightly. I noticed that my hairbrush and comb were already on the dressing table, and when I drifted over to open the armoire and peep inside I saw my clothes were already hung there, my dresses and blouses and skirts hung alongside Carlisle’s suits and shirts. I trailed my finger across the edges of the fabric. “Did he move all this this morning?”

“Yes. We wanted it ready for you…I know it’s only temporary, and when we move you can do what you like to the room at the new house. There might be other furniture or colours you would prefer…”

His voice trailed off and I turned to face him, smiling widely. “No, it’s perfect just the way it is.”

Carlisle smiled in relief, and then the two of us stood on opposite sides of the room, looking at each other as the silence lengthened. Between us was the bed, the largest thing in the room, and while neither of us were looking at it both of us were acutely conscious of its presence.

I wondered a little uneasily why he just kept looking at me, why he didn’t _move_ or even just _say_ something. But then I caught sight of his hands hanging at his sides, his fingers drumming relentlessly against his thigh and I realised with a rush of tender understanding that he was anxious.

“Carlisle,” I said lightly, “Am I really so frightening that you must be so nervous?”

He laughed guiltily. “Oh Esme, you’ve found me out! I’m sorry sweetness, but the truth is I’m somewhat terrified.” He ducked his head in embarrassment. “I’ve read very widely of course, but I’ve never…and well, I suspect it’s the kind of thing where the reality is very different to simply reading about it.”

I laughed gently. “I haven’t read widely on the subject at all,” I told him. “But I think we shall manage. Come over here.”

Willingly, Carlisle crossed the room and stood before me, looking down at me with his beautiful golden eyes glowing with love. “I don’t even know how to start,” Carlisle said slowly, stroking my face.

I stepped forward and reached up to touch the small buttons on his shirt. “Perhaps we should start here?” I suggested, unbuttoning his shirt and drawing it away from his shoulders. I unbuckled his belt and tugged off his trousers, unlacing his shoes and slipping off his socks, all my movements slow and deliberate and unhurried. I had never seen him naked and I stared shamelessly at the glory of the body that was revealed to me, making no effort to hide how beautiful I found him and how much I desired him.

Carlisle was still and quiet as I undressed him, simply watching me as I moved from his head down to his toes. When I was kneeling back on my heels after removing his socks I looked up at him and saw his tender look as he took in my avid examination of him.

“Am I what you expected?” he asked lightly.

I giggled. “No,” I answered, rising to my feet and reaching out to lay a hand on his chest. “You’re much, _much_ more than I expected.”

“Good.” Carlisle, his nerves having apparently vanished, ran two hands down my sides and then moved them to the buttons on the back of my dress. “It’s my turn now.”

He undressed me like he was unwrapping a treasured gift, and that’s what I felt like under his loving, worshipping gaze. He touched me as he undressed me, running his fingertips lightly across my skin, making me shiver with a kind of agonised delight.

We moved to the bed when we were both naked, and then there were no nerves and no uncertainty. Because he was Carlisle and I was me, and the two of us together created something that was perfect for us. Kisses and touches and caresses, bodies that came together again and again, pleasure that peaked and ebbed and yet never needed to stop…it was everything I would have wished for if I had ever known it was possible.

“It was worth it,” he whispered into my ear late one night as we lay tangled together. “All those years alone…I never knew that I was waiting. I never knew that I would ever be so blessed as to find _you_. And I would live it a thousand time over for the joy of this moment of being with you.”

I was sated and utterly content lying wrapped in his arms. I turned my head only enough to lay a kiss on his collarbone, breathing in the scent of him and the intoxicating new scent that was the two of us together. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here,” I said dreamily. “Everything in my life that led me to you…I wouldn’t change any of it Carlisle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Awww, she finally gets him. I hope you liked this- I really wanted it to be something lovely between them. Too often Carlisle and Esme are presented as being almost asexual, and I don’t really think that’s what’s going on between them. I mean, Esme’s strengthened human trait was ‘love’…like she’s not going to love him in every way she can! I also wanted to write this scene because I think it’s important to note that for once Esme got to the be the experienced one. SHE got to show Carlisle something for once, and perhaps teach him a little bit, which I think adds a nice sense of equality and symmetry to their relationship.   
> Thank you so much for reading this and commenting too! I love talking to you guys about what you think, and I really do take that feedback into account when I keep writing. So thank you, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story, which still has quite a bit to go.


	29. An Eternal Adolescent (1927)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Apologies for the iffy timeline on these next couple of chapters. Edward’s rebellion and return, then Rosalie’s arrival have been given different dates in different places (even in the Guide, Rosalie’s change is listed as 1931 in the timeline and 1933 in her profile) so I’ve just gone with whatever I felt like.

I stretched out on the bed, folding my hands behind my head and watching as Carlisle buttoned his shirt. He caught my eyes in the mirror and gave me a pained grimace as his eyes swept my nakedness.

“Sweetness, you’re not really helping me get ready for work lying there like that.”

“Oh really?” I ran my hands through my hair and stretched again, arching my back provocatively. “That’s an awful shame.”

Carlisle laughed and was on me in second, his knees digging in to the bed on either side of my thighs and his arms braced on either side of my head as he lowered his head and kissed me. “It _is_ a shame,” he agreed. “Because I _do_ have to go to the clinic today, and my record of tardiness at this job is nothing short of disgraceful. As very beautiful and desirable as I find you, my darling wife, I’m afraid I cannot devote my life to pleasure. Even when,” he paused, his tongue trailing down my neck, “it is a pleasure like this.”

I made a noise that was halfway between a giggle and a moan as his mouth found my nipple.

“Save that thought,” he gasped, releasing me and looking down at me longingly. “I’ll be home at the end of my shift, and now I have a very, very delightful picture of my wife to take with me to work.”

Laughing, I sat up. I had really only been teasing him. While Carlisle was correct (and very embarrassed) about his occasional lateness to work, both of us valued his efforts at the medical clinic and wouldn’t consider neglecting them. I whisked off the bed and selected a tie, tying it in a neat knot around Carlisle’s neck and pressing a last, chaste kiss on his lips. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“What are you going to do while I’m gone?” Carlisle asked, stooping down to tie his shoelaces.

I began slipping on my own clothes. “Some more work on the mouldings in the dining room ceiling I think.”

“You’ll soon have the whole house finished and be wanting to move again,” Carlisle teased.

“Oh, I think I’ll find enough to do even once the house is done,” I laughed.

We had moved to the small town in Montana only a year or so previously, the third place we’d lived in since Ashland. Even with Carlisle and Edward helping me, giving me their unswerving faith and encouragement and forgiveness, I had struggled with living out my commitment to not taking human life. My vampire life history was marked with blood and the serene control that Carlisle had over himself was something I strove for every day. With my control increasing I hoped that I would be able to avoid making any mistakes and we might settle down here for a longer stay.

Finished with dressing, Carlisle picked up his medical bag and touched my cheek lightly. “Have fun with the mouldings. I’ll see you when I get back.”

Smiling I watched him leave, and then I brushed and braided my hair rapidly and walked out of our room. The wide hallway smelled of new wallpaper and paste underneath the scent of the blooms I had placed on the hall table, and I took a moment to admire the chandelier that had been installed only the week before. The house was a large, gracious Victorian mansion on the edge of town, backing onto the forest. It had belonged to the original founder of the town, who had made his money in timber, but his descendants had fallen on hard times and after a large part of the house had been damaged by fire they had put it up for sale. Carlisle had bought it for me as a project, and it was shaping up to be the largest and most elegant home we’d lived in.

Before I went into the dining room to begin work, I went searching for Edward, finding him in the small upstairs room he’d claimed as his own. It was at the front of the house, as far away from the bedroom Carlisle and I shared as was possible.

“What are you reading?” I asked Edward, who was sitting hunched in the corner of the window seat.

“Dracula.”

“Again?” I couldn’t help saying. Edward had developed what I considered a morbid fascination with the vampire novel.

He didn’t answer, scowling at me in a manner that looked like nothing more than a sullen teenager irritated with his mother. I smiled at him anyway and said lightly, “Did you want to play a game of something? Listen to some music?”

“You don’t have to spend time with me just because I’m surly,” he muttered, picking up on my thoughts. “It’s not your duty to indulge my moods.”

“I know it’s not my duty, but I don’t like to see you like this,” I answered truthfully, hesitating for a moment before I added, “Carlisle and I are both worried about you.”

Edward’s face was set. “Well, there’s no need for it. I’m fine. And now Esme, if you don’t mind, I’d rather be alone.”

Reluctantly I went back downstairs and into the dining room, throwing on a large overshirt to protect my clothes as I got out the plaster and prepared to repair the chipped and broken mouldings on the ceiling.

But sitting on the scaffolding that raised me to ceiling height, I couldn’t stop thinking about Edward and settle to my work. Carlisle and I _were_ worried about him, increasingly so. Edward had always been a serious young man, prone to bouts of melancholy and intense self-reflection, but until now he had always also maintained a sense of humour and been happy to talk with Carlisle and I about what was on his mind. In the last months though, something had changed. Edward’s moods had become dark and bitter, and he increasingly kept his distance from Carlisle and I. He wrote in his journal a great deal and even his piano playing had become darker, stormier and full of unhappiness and frustration.

“I can hear you thinking about me and I wish you’d stop!” His voice was sharp as Edward appeared in the dining room doorway, looking up at me wrathfully. “I’m sorry my piano playing no longer pleases you!”

“Edward,” I said gently. “You know I always enjoy your playing, but it concerns me that you seem so unhappy lately. And if you don’t like what I’m thinking about you, then you need to not listen!”

I meant it as a joke, but Edward’s eyes darkened with anger.

“As if I can help it!” he burst out. “You and Carlisle…all the time! And then every time you think my name it’s as though you call it. I don’t want to listen to you fret about me and analyse every move I make, believe me!”

“Edward!” I was shocked. After a slightly rocky and embarrassing start, he and Carlisle and I had all made peace with his telepathy. Carlisle had never minded Edward answering his thoughts rather than waiting for his words, but I preferred to pretend he didn’t know everything I was thinking and Edward did me the courtesy of waiting for me to speak. He almost never referred to things he overheard from my mind if I didn’t voice them, and he had _certainly_ never even hinted that he knew more about what went on between Carlisle and I in private than I would want him to!

“I’m tired of pretending,” Edward muttered sulkily. “It’s ridiculous that you feel responsible for me, I’m not a child!”

“You’re behaving like one,” I snapped, hurt.

“Well isn’t that part of the problem?” Edward fired back. “Because for all intents and purposes I _am_ still a child, and I’ll never get to grow up!”

He stormed away, and I watched him go with an aching heart. What had happened to him? It was true that Edward _was_ caught in an eternal adolescence. Despite his brilliance he could not escape the fact that he looked seventeen, and that would always mean his options were limited in a way that Carlisle’s and mine were not. I had been turned at age twenty-six, which meant I could claim any age from twenty one to about thirty-five and be believed. Carlisle was twenty-three when he was turned, but his face held a wisdom and maturity that made him seem older and he could claim to be any age that I could. But at best Edward could claim to be only a few years older than seventeen, and it seemed he was beginning to resent it.

I wished Carlisle were home. With a sigh, I resealed my container of plaster and tossed aside my shirt and went in search of Edward. He wasn’t anywhere in the house and didn’t come when I called in the yard. I paced the edge of the forest and found his scent at the point at which he must have entered it. He had clearly decided to take some time out. I thought for a moment and then went back into the house and picked up my purse, checked my reflection and then headed back out, walking towards town.

I had never been to the medical clinic where Carlisle worked. He had said I was welcome and he would love to show me his work, but I had always shied away from the risk. What if there was a patient who came in bleeding? But today I decided to face the risk and let myself in to the waiting room.

“Can I help you?” The lady behind the desk looked at me curiously.

“I’m Esme Cullen,” I told her. “Dr Cullen is my husband, and I wondered if it would be possible to speak to him for a moment?”

She gaped at me. “Dr Cullen’s wife!” After a moment of staring she pulled herself together and smiled at me brightly. “It’s lovely to meet you at last! I’m Anne, and if you just take a seat I’ll let him know that you’re here!”

I sat warily in the closest seat, eyeing the people around me. Fortunately no one seemed injured and the only blood I could smell was all contained safely in the humans that owned it! It was a small town medical clinic and Carlisle and the other doctor took care of everything that arose, only sending the most serious cases on to the hospital at the closest large town, and the waiting room was not busy.

“Hello sweetness, this is a surprise!” Carlisle touched my shoulder. I jumped up and he kissed my cheek. “I didn’t expect this. Is there something wrong?”

I shook my head. “No, not really. I just thought I’d like to talk to you, if you’re not busy.”

Carlisle glanced at the waiting room. “I’ve got to vaccinate these two young men,” he said, smiling at a pair of solemn faced boys sitting with their mother. “But I can take a break after that.”

I waited patiently, wondering again how he could do what he did all day. From the waiting room I heard the needle pierce the skin and the child shriek, and then I smelled the tiny spot of blood that welled up as Carlisle withdrew the syringe. Even in the other room with a closed door between us I had to force myself to sit calmly. Then he did it again to the second child, and I could feel the venom flooding my mouth as I once again smelled the blood. At the same time I heard Carlisle laughing with the mother and pressing some cottonwool against the tiny wounds in the boys arms, and I knew that if I were to look at him I would see him perfectly relaxed, his eyes as clear and golden as ever.

The two little boys came out, suckers in their hands and smiles on their faces, and Carlisle spoke briefly to the lady at the desk and then held out a hand to me. “Esme, come on in,” he said with a grin.

I went into his office, looking around with interest. It had dark wood panelling and small windows, but he had several bright lamps and the two landscapes I had painted and he had framed and hung behind his desk made the space seem brighter.

“It’s not much like your study at home,” I said with a giggle. After all these years his skeleton, jars of horrors and implements of torture still made me uneasy at home.

Carlisle laughed and embraced me. “No…I don’t imagine those little lads would have been quite so easy to appease with a sucker if I’d been using one of those old large bore syringes on them!”

He kissed me, and for a moment I forgot all about why I’d come as I slid my hands underneath his white coat and up his back.

“I’m glad you came by,” Carlisle said almost bashfully, smiling at me. “It’s good to be able to show you where I work.”

“It’s very nice,” I told him. “I think your receptionist was surprised to see me.”

“Surprised that such a beautiful lady is married to an old stick-in-the-mud like me,” Carlisle chuckled, and I clasped his hand and laughed with him.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about Edward,” I said, hopping up onto his examination table. “He and I had something of an argument earlier today.”

I related our conversation, and Carlisle frowned. “That’s not like him.”

“Not, it’s not,” I agreed, adding hesitantly. “But he has been so moody lately Carlisle, always looking so morose. Something is really troubling him, and yet he hasn’t shared his thoughts with us. He hasn’t said anything to you recently has he?”

Carlisle shook his head. “No. I’ve asked him to talk with me, but he just makes some excuse.” He stood directly in front of me and drummed his fingers against the examination table. “I’d hoped this was just a passing phase, that whatever is causing him such angst could be dealt with in privacy as he seems to wish. But I can’t bear seeing him so unhappy.”

I pulled him in between my legs and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Perhaps we should try and talk to him together. Make him tell us what he’s been meditating on with such gloom,” I suggested.

“Mmm, I think so,” Carlisle said, although his voice sounded slightly distracted. “Tonight…I don’t wish this to go on any longer.” His eyes drifted downwards, and he reached a hand out and touched one of the pearl buttons on my dress. “Of course, Edward is nowhere near us right now, and I _have_ been thinking about the way I left you earlier…”

“Why Dr Cullen,” I said, with a slow smile spreading across my face. “To think of you being distracted at work...we can’t have that.”

“Indeed no,” Carlisle murmured, sliding a hand up my thigh. “It won’t do at all. But it seems that I have a free window in my schedule and the very object of my distraction right here…”

I opened my legs a little wider and pressed myself a little closer to him. “I think there are perhaps one or two things we could do about that…” I whispered, and Edward was very far from my thoughts as I gave myself to my husband.

 


	30. The Other Way

Bounding up the porch stairs on his return from work Carlisle sat beside me on the swing, wrapping an arm around me and kissing the side of my head. I leaned into him with a sigh. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Carlisle rested his head against mine. “I’m glad you came to visit me today,” he said lightly. “It really made my afternoon.”

I giggled. “Well, don’t get used to it. I don’t think I’m quite capable of spending much time in the medical area yet.”

Edward appeared almost soundlessly on the porch in front of us, his face distant. “You wanted to talk.”

Carlisle and I sat up straighter.

“I think it’s time we did,” Carlisle said carefully. “You’ve clearly been wrestling with some demons Edward, and we’d like to help you if we can.”

“You can’t,” Edward said flatly. “Everything I’ve been thinking is completely anathema to you.”

I felt a crawling sense of dread. Where was Edward going with this? Was what I had assumed was a restlessness due to his age and maturing something more serious?

“Can you explain?” Carlisle said.

Edward ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it even further. “You made the choice to live this way,” he said slowly. “And you’ve…well, you’ve _raised_ me I suppose, to live it too. I never really considered living any other way. At least, for a long time I never considered it.”

I stared at him, aghast. “What are you _saying?”_

“That there _is_ another way,” Edward said baldly. “That we’ve always lived by the belief that human life is sacred…but what if it’s not?”

Carlisle and I simply looked at him, and a moment later he went on, his voice becoming more animated. “I listen to people’s thoughts all day, every day. I _know_ what they are like. We preserve life…for what? So they can go out and murder and rape and ruin other lives?”

“You think it’s up to you to stop them?” Carlisle asked.

“Who else is better placed to do it than I?” Edward challenged. “Where can I do the most good, Carlisle? Staying away from humans and ignoring all I hear, or stopping someone who might go on to hurt more people?”

“You’re justifying, Edward,” Carlisle said, a thread of steel underlying his mild delivery. “Vigilante justice or not…don’t fool yourself, you’re still talking about murder.”

“We have the death penalty for crimes,” Edward argued. “I’d simply be cutting out all the manoeuvring by the legal system. And I can read their minds…there would be no risk of me killing an innocent person.”

“You know I disagree with the death penalty too,” Carlisle said tightly. “And your mind reading isn’t infallible Edward. People think and fantasize about all kinds of things they would not ever follow through on.”

“I know the difference,” Edward muttered. “Think about the people you see in the clinic, people who have been abused and beaten and starved…I could save them from their tormentors.”

He glanced at me, just a flash, but I saw it and my stomach clenched. _Charles._ “This isn’t the way to take revenge for people,” I said quietly. “I know how you feel about people who hurt others…we all feel that way about it! But that doesn’t mean we can just go and deal out revenge. And what are you proposing Edward…that you hunt them down and kill them and drink their blood? You will feel like a monster.”

“Vampires have fed on human blood for millennia,” Edward growled. “What makes us so special that we should be different?”

“Because we can be! Because fate doesn’t bind us, but gives us choices!” Carlisle said emphatically. “There is more to you than base instinct!”

“This isn’t base instinct. I’m thinking this all through very rationally, Carlisle.”

“It isn’t up to you to play God,” Carlisle said. “It isn’t up to any of us. We are responsible only for our own lives, and for living them the best way we can.”

“Isn’t that what you did though?” Edward said bitterly. “When you created Esme and I? Taking someone who is about to die and giving them immortal life…what is that but playing God?”

 “Are you sorry I did it?” Carlisle said, his voice soft. “Would you rather I had let you die?”

“That doesn’t matter, because you _did_ change me. I’m here, and I’m a vampire, and I think that maybe it’s time I began to live like one instead of this pretending to this false humanity.” Edward looked away.

I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. Edward, so disillusioned with the life we had built that he wanted to turn his back on the light and allow the darkness to flourish?

“You don’t know what it’s like,” I whispered. “Having your own monstrous instincts and darkest desires take over…feeling their life drain out of them as the blood flows through your own body…” I shuddered, but I could not have said whether it was in horror or remembered pleasure. My mistakes haunted me, but even as I was shamed by it I could never deny the intense bliss of the moment of death.

“I’ve heard your mind as you’ve done it,” Edward said.

“Then you know how much I struggle to hold back. You know how much I regret it and the remorse and guilt that I carry every day…do you really want that?”

“I wouldn’t be killing innocent people. I would select victims very carefully.”

“You wouldn’t kill an innocent person _on purpose_ ,” Carlisle murmured. “But if you begin judging guilt and passing sentence, then where do you draw the line?”

“I’m not going to argue about this with you,” Edward said wearily. “I have no desire to convince you that I’m right, because I don’t know that I am. But I feel as though I need to at least explore this.”

Carlisle buried his face in his hands, and I saw Edward’s face spasm with feeling. _“I’m sorry_. I really am…but you won’t be troubled by it. I’d go somewhere else, far away…you won’t have to know anything about it.”

“You’d go _away?_ ” I exclaimed. “Edward!”

He gave me the ghost of a smile. “I’ll miss you. But I need to do this. I need to try independence. I should be twenty-six years old by now…don’t you think it’s time to cut the apron strings?”

“So go and be independent,” I said, slightly too harshly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to throw everything Carlisle has ever taught you back in his face!”

“Esme, don’t say that.” Carlisle lifted his face and laid a gentle hand on my thigh. “Edward owes me nothing. He’s an adult, and he has to forge his own path according to his own beliefs.”

I shook my head and looked away. Of course Carlisle would push aside all his own hurt feelings and sadness over what was happening and try and support Edward, even in this!

“I’m sorry,” Edward said again. “Please understand Esme, I’m not doing this to hurt either of you.”

“So you’ve made up your mind?” I asked numbly. “You’re not here to talk about it…you’re here to tell us what you’re doing?”

Edward looked at me squarely. “Yes. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, but I wanted to make up my own mind so I didn’t discuss it with you. I didn’t want to be influenced in either direction. But I’m going to do this, go out and live as other vampires do, at least to an extent. I need to explore what the world might hold for me.”

“I understand,” Carlisle said distantly. “As I said to Esme, you owe us nothing Edward. It has been a pleasure and a privilege to have you in my life, and I wish nothing more than contentment in your life. I hope that you might find what you’re looking for. If there is any help or assistance I can offer you must let me know, and of course, should you ever want to…you can always come home.” I don’t think any of us could miss the vulnerability in Carlisle’s eyes as he looked at Edward. “You can always come home. Esme and I will always be your family, here for you if you should want us.”

____________________________________________

Edward wasted no time. Carlisle and I sat silently on the porch, hands entwined, listening as Edward moved around his room upstairs. He returned shortly afterward, a knapsack slung over his shoulder and his face set.

“I think I should go now.”

“You don’t have to go immediately,” I said, knowing I was fighting a losing battle. “You could stay and think about things…we could talk more.”

Edward shook his head. “No. I know what I want to do, and I think it’s best if I leave now. I don’t want any of us to start arguing and saying things we might regret.”

Carlisle looked shell shocked. “Do you have a plan?”

“I thought I might head over to New York,” Edward said slowly. “I’d like to see the city, and there will be plenty of…hunting to be done there.”

Carlisle’s hand gripped mine so tightly I thought he might tear off my fingers, but he said nothing.

“Well, take care of yourself,” I said dazedly.

Perhaps I was naïve, but I adored our family of three so much that it had never really occurred to me that it might dissipate one day. The prospect of the weeks and months – even years? - that we were facing without Edward’s company stretched out ahead grimly.

“Carlisle and I aren’t going anywhere, so let us know how you are, if you can,” I finished lamely.

“I will.” Edward hesitated. “Carlisle…”

“Don’t say anything else,” Carlisle said quietly. “I understand, even if I don’t agree. Good luck Edward, and I’m sorry if…well, I’m sorry.”

He shook his hand, and then I rose to my feet and hugged Edward fiercely, although I didn’t say anything. What was there left to say? He was leaving, and nothing we could do would change his mind. Deep in my heart, I didn’t believe we should try either. Whatever darkness was driving Edward was something that he believed he had to experience for himself, and he would get no peace until he had walked this road to the end.

Edward vanished into the darkness, leaving Carlisle and I alone and feeling bereft. For the first time Carlisle turned away from me, folding his arms across his chest and staring blindly out into the forest as the night passed, moment after moment.

“So much blood on my hands.”

His voice was a mere whisper, bleak and hopeless. I leaned closer to him, wrapping an arm around his stone chest, and a moment later felt him sigh.

“Where did I go wrong? I don’t understand how he could want to do this. How can he feel driven to kill?”

I pressed my face into his shoulder and kissed him. “I don’t know why he has to do this. But you can’t blame yourself.”

“I changed him. I taught him. And now he’s turning his back on everything, and he’s going to go out and kill. I turned him into a creature that kills and now he’s following his nature and instinct, and all the blood will be on my hands.” Carlisle laid his hands, palms up, on his thighs and stared at them. “ _So much blood…”_

“You can’t take this upon yourself,” I told him fiercely. “Edward is a man and it is his life. Whether we agree with them or not, they are his choices to make.”

“But being a killer…deliberately taking life… I didn’t realise he was so disillusioned with this life. Disillusioned with _me_ , and what I believe.” Carlisle’s voice cracked.

“I don’t believe it has anything to do you with you,” I said tenderly. “Not like that. Edward loves you, he looks up to you…you have been the best mentor a boy could want and I know he shares your vision of what’s possible for us.”

“Not enough to live it,” Carlisle murmured.

“He’s still growing and maturing Carlisle. He was turned when he was seventeen, and that’s very young. Think about how much emotional development and change went on even as you moved through early adulthood…I think Edward is perhaps doing that now?” I touched my fingers to his palm, and after a moment he closed his hand around them. “Don’t most young men rebel against their fathers at some point?”

“I didn’t,” Carlisle gave a choked laugh. “My father was a pastor and he had me on my knees praying and out hunting monsters and demons so much that there was no time for rebellion. Although,” his voice turned reflective, “The thing that seems strangest now is that the one thing I disagreed with him about the most – the existence of the demons and monsters we hunted – was the one thing he was right about all along. It turns out that we exist after all.”

“You’re most unmonster-like monster that ever lived,” I said to him, and he rewarded me with a weak chuckle as he wrapped his arms around me and rested his cheek on my hair.

“I can’t help but feel like I’ve failed,” he whispered. “I feel as though I didn’t give Edward enough…and now he’s gone. We’ve lost him.”

I leaned into him and kissed him, but I couldn’t comfort him with words. Because I had no words, not when I too felt that we had lost Edward, and his absence had left me feeling bereft.

_______________________________________________

It felt as though Edward’s absence turned my world upside down. All the hours Carlisle spent working now dragged for me in a way they never had, now that I was without Edward’s company. I missed his quiet laughter and tales of what he was doing at school, I missed our conversations and jokes and teasing. The silence of the piano made my heart ache.

I was frightened for him too. We had no way of knowing where he was or what was happening to him and I couldn’t stop the nagging worry that something might go wrong. Of course no human could hurt him, but there were other vampires roaming the country and Carlisle had told me that they were not always friendly. I prayed every day for Edward’s safety.

Even more so, I was scared of what he was doing and of what it might be doing to him. I had seen what violence and war had done to Charles, and I dreaded the impact that killing might have on Edward’s sensitive soul. Perhaps this would be just a phase and he would come back to us…but what would he be like then? Every death I had caused had left its mark on my spirit, and I knew that Edward would not be able to live the darkness and come out unscathed.

Amongst all my worry and love for him was a tiny part of me that was furious with him too. Not for leaving us. I accepted that as a growing man Edward might well want to stretch his wings and try out more independence and I would have understood and supported that wholeheartedly. But this was more than that. Edward was rejecting Carlisle’s deepest held beliefs and values and it was a blow that had sent my husband reeling. I was incensed that he could have hurt Carlisle so badly.

  It was several weeks after he left that I had any word from Edward. A heavy parcel awaited me at the post office, and I recognised the handwriting immediately. I whisked it home and tore off the paper, desperate with excitement at the prospect of news. But what I found turned my heart to stone. Two books, one a treatise on Mediterranean architecture and the other a handmade book of art, and a brief note written in Edward’s hand.

_Just returning what is yours._

He wrote nothing else, not even his name. He didn’t have to. There was only one place he could have found my books, and only one reason he would have gone there. Edward’s version of justice had claimed a victim, and this time he had a name. _Charles Evenson._

I closed my eyes, sick at heart. He was really out there in the human world, feeding and killing and living the life of a true vampire. I had known that was what he had planned, but I supposed I had hoped that when it came down to it he would find himself unable to carry through with it. But now the proof lay heavy in my lap and the truth heavy on my heart.

_Carlisle doesn’t need to know about this._

I had never kept any secrets from my husband. I shared everything with Carlisle, all my deepest thoughts and fears and emotions, and all the funny, silly and inconsequential things that happened to me too. But for the first time I had something I didn’t want him to know. I didn’t want Carlisle to carry this burden too.

My mind made up, I went to the incinerator in the rear yard and built a small fire. When the flames were crackling merrily I slowly tore my books and let the pages flutter into the fire, the flames flaring higher before the paper blackened and turned to ash. Gone.

I hoped Edward would come back one day. I loved the time and privacy I had now for my relationship with Carlisle, but I missed our family. I missed Edward. I prayed that one day he would come back and we could pick up where we had left off, the three of us.

 


	31. The Prodigal (1931)

“We need more boxes,” I told Carlisle, hearing his footsteps approaching me. “This is the last of the ones we got last week and there are still more books.”

“ _More_ boxes?” Carlisle asked, “But we didn’t use half as many as this when we moved here!” He stood beside where I was sitting on the bearskin rug, wrapping china in newsprint and cloth and laying it carefully in a packing crate, and touched a hand to my head.

“That was close to seven years ago,” I reminded him with a laugh. “And you know how much we’ve bought in the meantime…it’s a wonder you’re not penniless.”

“Oh yes, my fortune is quite depleted,” Carlisle said dryly. He dropped to the floor beside me, kissing my cheek and then stretching his long legs out on the rug. “ _Our_ money, my love, and it was well spent on our lovely home. And speaking of home, I received the floor plans of the new house today.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, passing it to me.

“Oh, wonderful!” I pushed the full packing crate aside and spread the plans out in front of me. The first one showed the boundaries of the property and where the house and drive were situated on it, and the second one showed the layout of the house. “Three bedrooms upstairs, and the kitchen, living room, study and dining room downstairs, with a built in porch for the laundry…it will be lovely.”

“It’s considerably smaller than this house,” Carlisle said. “But the location is perfect; not too far from Rochester and surrounded by farmland and forest. If we decide we need more space we can build onto it.”

“A smaller house will be fine. We’ve donated several boxes of books to the library here, and I’ve made arrangements with the church charity to come by the house after we leave and take possession of any extra furniture we leave behind. The two of us will manage nicely.” I leaned my head against his shoulder, and thought wistfully of how nice it would be if the new house were going to be for our family of three.

We had had very little contact with Edward in the four years he had been gone. A sporadic delivery of letters, and the occasional parcel of some book or trinket he thought we might like. Carlisle and I had had no easy way to keep track of his whereabouts.

We had stayed in Montana as long as we thought it was safe, hoping against hope that Edward would return. But the lack of changes to Carlisle’s youthful face was being remarked upon with increasing frequency, and so the time had come to move on. Carlisle had been offered a job in Rochester, a town in New York, and so we were preparing to relocate. The post office would have our new address and Carlisle would leave it with the hospital too, and we just had to hope that if Edward came looking for us he would be able to find us.

Carlisle’s arm curved around my back as he lowered his face to nuzzle at my neck, lifting my hair to give him access to my skin. “I think the two of us manage very nicely,” he murmured with a light laugh. “In more ways than one.”

I giggled and tilted my head to the side. “Well, you know what they say about practice making perfect.”

Carlisle didn’t answer, busy trailing his lips across my neck and then pressing them against mine, gently bearing me down onto the bearskin rug. I kissed him back deeply, feeling the ever present passion we had for each other beginning to burn hotter. Both of us were so caught up in the moment that it took us a moment to register the sound and the scent of someone approaching, and we pulled away and stared at each in disbelief as we heard the familiar voice.

“I thought some things wouldn’t change…should I come back later?”

I threw myself at him, hugging him with fierce disregard for any personal boundaries he might have. But for once Edward responded in kind, his arms gripping me so tightly I thought he might crack my ribs, his eyes closed as he breathed into my ear, _“I’m so sorry.”_

“Oh, I don’t _care_ , you’re _here_!” I held him at arms length, beaming. I noted almost immediately that although his eyes had flecks of red in them the predominant colour was gold. “We’ve missed you so much!”

Edward grinned at me, but the smile faded as he looked past me. “Carlisle…” he faltered. “I’ve come back…if you’ll have me…”

“Oh Edward,” Carlisle said hoarsely. “Of course we’ll have you.” He stepped forward and the two of them embraced.

“I’m sorry,” Edward’s voice cracked and he looked at both of us beseechingly. “I know I went against everything you believe. I embraced the monster within, but you were right that it changes you. I don’t…don’t want to do that anymore.”

“You had to make up your own mind,” Carlisle said softly. “It has to be your choice. But we’re so glad to have you back Edward, for as long as you want to stay.” He clasped Edward’s hands for a moment, and his eyes were shining as he looked at his first companion.

“We’ve missed you so much!” I exclaimed, adding practically, “And, you’ve come back just in time. Because we’re moving, and this way you’ll not only know where we are but you’ll be able to help us shift all the boxes.”

Edward laughed, a carefree sound that I had almost forgotten. “Lucky me.”

“There’s room for you at the new house,” I said, anxious to reassure him. “It’s not as large as this house overall, but it has three bedrooms.”

“Plenty of space in the living room for a baby grand,” Carlisle added diffidently. “If you’d like to think about what you might like.”

Edward looked overwhelmed. “I can’t possibly…”

 “You are going to stay? At least for a while?”  I said uncertainly. I wanted him to stay with us forever, but I had to respect his position as an adult.

“Yes, I want to stay.” Edward took a deep breath and looked at us squarely. “But you have to know that I’ve behaved monstrously. These past years…I came to feel barely human. Living constantly in the shadows, all that blood and death…don’t mistake me, it’s over now and I never want to go back to it, but I don’t feel as though I deserve your forgiveness. I almost hate myself for what I’ve done, and to come home and have you treat me like the prodigal son…” He covered his face with his hands.

“We can’t give you absolution,” Carlisle said gently. “But you don’t need it from us Edward. You need to forgive yourself.”

“They were all terrible human beings,” Edward muttered. “The things I heard from their minds made it like hunting beasts. I didn’t hurt anyone who hadn’t hurt others. But you were right Carlisle. It’s a heavy responsibility playing God like that, and it’s not my place to do it.”

“I’m glad you came home,” Carlisle said simply.

Edward ran a hand through his hair. “You can probably tell from my eyes that it’s been a couple of months. I had to be sure…it was harder to stop than I thought it would be. But I can’t live that way. I can’t spend my existence listening to the ugliest and most depraved thoughts of humanity and not have that seep into my soul.” He looked at Carlisle. “I want to be more than what I am. Better than what fate has turned me into.”

Carlisle smiled. “I’ve always said we must do the best we can with the hand we’ve been dealt. There will be mistakes and missteps and times when the way forward is not clear, and sometimes there are detours. But as long as we keep trying I believe it will be worth it, in the end.”

Carlisle stroked my back, and I knew he was talking to me as much as Edward. My ability to resist human blood had vastly improved from my early days, but in no way did I even approach the level of serene calm in the face of temptation that Carlisle displayed. The blood I had spilled in my ten vampire years was a source of deep shame and regret to me.

“I missed you both a great deal,” Edward said. “I hadn’t realised what a difference it would make, having a family.”

“Imagine two hundred and fifty years without one,” Carlisle said with a boyish laugh. “I find my life has been a great deal more fulfilling with the two of you in it.”

“Well, the three of us have eternity to be a family,” I said cheerfully, although I couldn’t resist adding, “Unless of course Edward finds someone he would like to expand our family…”

Edward snorted, and the three of us laughed and the slightly fraught atmosphere relaxed.

“Where are we moving to?” Edward questioned, looking around at the packed crates. “And is that _your_ Buick I caught sight of out front?”

“Yes, it’s ours. I hope you approve!” Carlisle chuckled. “You’ll have plenty of chances to try it out when we drive to the new place, which is in Rochester, New York.”

Edward moved to the window to see the car a little better. “I spent a little time in upstate New York,” he said over his shoulder. “I think it will suit you.”

“The job offer was very appealing. Lots of opportunity for surgical work in a larger town, and we’ve found a fairly ideal home,” Carlisle told him. “Esme is much more comfortable around humans now, so living in a city is possible and might even be enjoyable with more chances to be sociable.”

“It’s sounds good.” Edward turned around and grinned. “So packing…where do you want me to start?”

____________________________________________________

We contracted with a cargo carrier to move the bulk of our possessions to Rochester, and then Carlisle, Edward and I drove to Rochester. Edward loved driving, and he and Carlisle taught me as we drove through South Dakota. I enjoyed my new skill, but I much preferred gazing out the window and daydreaming as we sped along.

Rochester turned out to be almost ideal for us. Our house was smaller than the Victorian mansion in Montana, but I loved how pretty and cosy it was. It was beautifully isolated, surrounded by forest, our only neighbours an elderly couple and their taciturn middle aged son whose farm abutted our land. Mrs Coombes came over a few days after we’d moved in and introduced herself, presenting me with a layer cake she’s baked herself as a welcome gift. I thanked her sincerely, even though the cake did end up being fed to the local bird life over the next few days!

Carlisle found his job to be a stimulating change of pace, and Edward enrolled in college and began studying an advanced math degree. I enjoyed having Edward’s company during Carlisle’s long hospital shifts, although I have to admit that getting used to having someone else with preternatural hearing (not to mention telepathy) in the house while Carlisle and I were together involved much time and great embarrassment!

For the first time in my vampire life, I began to venture out more into the human world. Through Carlisle’s contacts at the hospital I became involved in the Rochester Charitable Foundation, helping to organise food and clothing drives, as well as putting together care packages for the increasing number of poor and indigent in the city. Many of the women on the committee were there only for the social cachet, but there was a core group of dedicated and hard working women and with the Depression worsening there was a great deal of help needed.

It reminded me a little of my human life and the dim memories I had of my women’s committee in Columbus. The difference was that in Rochester I didn’t make friends. I was polite and friendly, but I kept myself at a little distance from the other ladies, recognising the truth of what Carlisle had said- that any friendships we might make were by necessity temporary. Deep in my heart though, I sometimes wished for a female friendship. Melanie, Lucy, Leila…I had grown up with wonderful, strong, supportive female friends and I had to admit that it was something I missed.  

But I had Carlisle and Edward, and I adored them both. My beautiful, glorious husband with his gentle humour and deep passion was my life. I shared him willingly with his work though, even when his volunteer hours at the free clinic took him away form me more and more. I knew how much good he was doing, and the daily absences made every time he came home like a happy reunion. Having Edward home was wonderful too. I enjoyed his company, even when he was serious and melancholy I loved him, and particularly in light of how much more time I was spending in the human world it was freeing to have at least two people I could be completely honest with. Two people from whom I didn’t have to hide my truest self.

I wasn’t looking for change, not then. I was happy with our life and looking forward to spending some years settled in one place. With the charity work I was doing I loved feeling useful and feeling as though even in my strange, otherworldly existence I still contributing to the world. Carlisle was happy and even Edward’s moodiness eased.

And then one cold night while Carlisle was at work, Edward and I went out hunting. We brought down some deer and fed, and then Edward told me he was going to take a day or two on his own and I should go home to Carlisle and enjoy the privacy. I laughed and thanked him, and with a light heart turned and ran for home.

I heard the screams before I even came in sight of the house.

I ran faster, never dreaming of what I would find there and how it would change my world.


	32. Rosalie (1933)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – Sorry, another long note of explanation here. My plan for this story involved following Esme through her human life, her vampire transformation, her love story with Carlisle, and then the building of her family. I tend to think that it’s really Esme that holds them together as a family- Carlisle is the spiritual leader and mentor of the group, but Esme is the one whose heart has turned them into a family. 
> 
> So in my mind, the arrival of Rosalie and then Emmett is a big part of Esme’s story too. Partly because they rounded out her family, but also because they brought issues with them that helped Esme put her own ghosts to rest. Rosalie and Esme have similar histories with violent men, and in helping Rosalie Esme is able to see how far she herself has come. Emmett comes in with his shaky control, the only Cullen since Esme to have difficulty with their vegetarian lifestyle and again, Esme has to confront her feelings about her own mistakes.
> 
> (This isn’t to say that just because I consider Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Rosalie and Emmett to be the basic Cullen family that I don’t consider Alice and Jasper part of the family! I do (although Jasper…) but I don’t see them as being part of CREATING the family. The family had to really change to accommodate Rosalie and then Emmett, but then I think Alice and Jasper just kind of added to it, rather than changed it. It’s like having my own kids- the first one rocked our world, the second one changed everything again, but then the third and the fourth one just came and fitted in to the family that already existed. It doesn’t mean we love them any less or consider them less a part of the family!)
> 
> To include all that in the story though, is leading me into a lot of redundancy. I’ve written Rosalie’s arrival and transformation from her POV in World of Shadows, and through Carlisle’s eyes in The Dark Gift. I’ve written Emmett’s story in All That I Am, and done that whole thing from Rosalie’s point of view as well. I’ve tried to ignore everything I’ve written previously and write the events in a different way, but…it didn’t work. I’m sorry, but I’m obsessive and want everything I write to fit together and I can’t seem to change that!
> 
> So the rest of this story borrows heavily from my other stories. If you haven’t read them, then great! Keep reading this and enjoy! If you have read them, there are different scenes in this and it’s all from Esme’s point of view and with her interpretation, so hopefully you’ll still find something new and interesting.

She lay naked on the table, her golden hair spilling across it, her body thrashing in agony as she screamed. The evidence of brutality was everywhere, torn and swollen flesh, bruised and battered and broken. The smell of blood hung heavy in the air.

I didn’t want it.

It took me a moment to understand, because here was a human being laid out before me with her skin still seeping blood in a thousand different places, and I didn’t want her. It was surreal. And yet as I breathed deeper I smelled a new scent, and slowly understanding dawned. She had been bitten, and the venom was already working its way through her veins.

_Carlisle? Surely not…_

I heard him behind me and I turned. “The poor girl!” I said, but then I took in the distraught look on his face and I thought of nothing but comforting him as I moved closer and wrapped my arms around him. I could see over his shoulder, and there was suddenly something familiar about the girl on the table. The long hair, the angle of the jaw and the shape of the nose…even underneath the beating I could see her. “Carlisle,” I whispered, “What happened? Is that Rosalie Hale?”

I knew her, or at least knew of her. Her father was Carlisle’s banker, and I had done some charity work with her mother and her fiance’s mother. Rosalie was newly eighteen, a spoiled only child engaged to the son and heir of Rochester’s richest man and with a well-deserved reputation as one of the city’s most beautiful young women.

She was beautiful even then, when she was in agony. Her body was so young and lush and perfectly proportioned, her skin so soft and clear under the bruises. The long, thick hair shone like gold in the light of the lamp. I looked at the marks my Carlisle had left on her, bites at her neck and wrists and elbow, ankles and thighs, and for the first time ever I felt a sick wave of terrified jealousy.

_Why did he do this to HER? Why would he want to save HER?_

“Please help me dress her, and I’ll explain.”

I took the shirt Carlisle passed me. It was one of his, and it wrapped around her with room to spare. He buttoned it as I pulled it down to cover her, and I shuddered as I saw the bruises on her thighs and blood still seeping out from between her legs.

 _Oh, poor gir!._ It was horribly clear what had been done to her, and pity and sympathy for her pushed aside any jealousy. I began stroking her hair, gently working my fingers through the tangles. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know,” Carlisle answered. “I found her like this, on the ground in an alley. All I know is that there were five of them…and by God if I could get my hands on them!”

I was almost shocked at the level of violent rage in his voice. Carlisle was a man who felt things deeply, but rarely displayed any aggression. But a moment later I saw the anger dissipate in the face of grief before he hid his face in his hands.

“She was dying Esme. I was going to take her to the hospital, but it would have been useless- she would not have lived long enough for surgery.”

I touched his shoulder gently. “She’s lucky then that she found you.”

_But is she really? What is this pretty young girl going to think when she wakes up and learns what she has become?_

Rosalie screamed again, although her voice was hoarse and already losing strength. She writhed and kicked as she fought against an invisible foe, the relentless and excruciating burning that was overtaking her entire body, and her heels and her head banged heavily into the table as she arched her back and howled.

“Let’s take her upstairs,” I said quietly. “The spare room.” I knew that what was happening would take time, and the noise of her skull bashing against the hardwood table was unbearable.

Carlisle gathered her up in his arms and carried her soberly upstairs, laying her gently on the spare room bed. Rosalie’s screams were bone-chilling, but they soon faded away into moans as she tossed and turned. Carlisle sat beside her, holding her hands when she clawed desperately at her own body and talking to her steadily in his calm voice. It was only that I knew him so well that I could hear the echoes of the inner torment he must have been feeling as he sat beside her. I couldn’t stay there as he did, but I came in and out to give him comfort and see the progress.

“It’s good that you’re talking to her,” I said quietly, coming back into the room. “I remember when that you talked when it was me…it helped to hear your voice.”

“Really?” Carlisle looked up at me, his shadowed eyes a little more hopeful. “I wasn’t sure. Edward was so ill when I changed him I don’t think he heard anything. And when it was me…well, there wasn’t anyone to talk to me then.”

I hated myself for feeling even the slightest doubt, and I really didn’t, but… “Why did you choose her?” I asked quietly. “Of all the people in the world? Is it…she’s so pretty, and…” I didn’t look at him, ashamed once again in the face of his goodness that I could be so petty.

“Oh sweetness, no,” Carlisle said tenderly, rising to his feet and taking my hands. “Dear heart, you know that there is no one for me but you. It will always be you, Esme.” He pressed his lips to my forehead.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I know that, and I know it’s so silly of me to feel insecure.”

“I might feel the same way, if I came home to find you with a handsome young man lying naked on the table,” Carlisle said lightly. After a beat of silence we both looked at each other and burst out laughing, just for a moment forgetting about the suffering girl in the bed.

“I love you,” he whispered into my ear, hands on my face and lips moving across to my lips. “In all the world and beyond I will only ever have eyes for you.”

I kissed him back, but another anguished scream from Rosalie drew my attention again. “How much longer?”

Carlisle sat back down on the chair, burying his face in my breasts for a moment and I felt him shudder as Rosalie screamed again. “Two more days.”

“Are you sure you’ve done the right thing?”

I thought he wasn’t going to answer, as he looked across at Rosalie with his face bleak, but eventually he did, the word a mere whisper in the room. “No.”

I didn’t want to leave him alone, with his conscience and his guilt and the desperate suffering of Rosalie, but I knew I could be of little help to him. Instead I went into town, planning what would be needed for Rosalie when she woke. Carlisle and Edward’s hapless efforts at providing me with the clothes and household items I was used to when I had first woken after my change had been quite endearing, but I thought I might try and make it easier for Rosalie.

I went to several boutiques, buying one or two dresses in each one. After so long playing human and remaining inconspicuous it was second nature to avoid doing anything that might draw undue attention or raise suspicion. Buying multiple outfits in a size that was clearly not for me was just unusual enough that someone might remember it. So I did my best to seem casual as I selected some dresses that would suit Rosalie’s fair colouring, talking brightly about my sister that I was buying the dress for with the only clerk who asked.

I finished up in the department store, buying another two dresses and a stash of underwear and a pair of good shoes. I hoped Rosalie would like what I had chosen for her, but as I reflected on my own newborn days I admitted that most of it was likely to be destroyed while she learned to hunt. Hopefully it would last long enough for her to gain enough control to come and choose her own things.

I was examining a display of small, embroidered purses as I waited for the salesperson to ring up my purchases when I became aware of a conversation on the other side of the floor. A policeman had his notebook out and was asking questions of the manager, and my skin prickled as I listened.

“You’re not under suspicion Mr Walter, we’re simply trying to ascertain her movements yesterday,” the policeman said. “Her mother has told us that she left home intending to shop before visiting friends.”

“Well, I believe she did come in to the store,” the manager said with a frown. “I was working on the ledger last night and I’m sure I recall seeing the Hale account.”

“Could you check for me? And perhaps I ought to speak to the person who dealt with Miss Rosalie?”

The two of them marched purposefully over towards the counter where the saleslady was folding the last of my purchases and placing them carefully in tissue paper in the box. I thanked her and told her I would carry them rather than have them delivered, and then began walking away. I was grateful for my preternatural hearing as I stopped and pretended to browse a rack of floral shirts, knowing that I would not appear to be eavesdropping but would hear every word.

“Miss Jenny? Sergeant Cairns would like to ask you some questions. You were the one who served Miss Rosalie Hale yesterday afternoon?”

“Yes, I did,” Jenny, the saleslady, sounded surprised. “Is there a problem?”

“Miss Hale is currently missing,” the Sergeant informed her. “She left a friend’s home last night and hasn’t been seen since.”

Jenny clapped her hands across her mouth. “Oh, how terrible!”

“We’re not sure what’s happened just yet, but we’re trying to get an idea of her movements yesterday, if anyone who saw her noticed anything strange,” the Sergeant said. “As you can imagine, her family and her fiancé are out of their minds with worry.”

“Oh, of course they would be! But I’m afraid I can’t really be of any help. I know Miss Rosalie quite well, she’s a very frequent customer, and she came in yesterday afternoon to look at some more table linens for her trousseau. There were some items she hadn’t received at her bridal shower so she was looking to buy them herself,” Jenny said.

The policeman had his notebook and pencil at the ready. “There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary? Miss Hale was behaving normally?”

“Yes, as far as I could tell,” Jenny said thoughtfully. “She was excited about her wedding and we talked about what she wanted to buy. We talked about colours and she ordered some tablecloths and napkins to have delivered to her home. She said she was going to visit a friend…and that’s right, she bought a little trinket for the baby. One of the little rattles from the children’s department.”

“You didn’t see her speak to anyone? There was no one paying her any particular attention?”

Jenny giggled. “ _Everyone_ pays attention to Miss Rosalie! She’s like a film star or something. But she didn’t talk to anyone yesterday that I noticed. I’m sorry I can’t help.”

“Thank you anyway,” the Sergeant said ponderously. “I’ll continue my investigations, and if anyone needs to speak to you again they’ll be in touch.”

He brushed past me as he left, and for a moment I was caught with a wild desire to grab hold of him and demand to know everything. But I kept my face averted, pretending fascination with the shirts, and a moment later I heard Jenny and Mr Walter begin talking.

“I can’t believe she’s gone missing! They must be thinking someone’s murdered her,” Jenny sounded scandalised. “And so close to her wedding too!”

“I’ve been hearing about it all morning,” Mr Walter murmured. “ _Most_ mysterious, I have to say. Beautiful young girl, engaged to be married to someone with all that money, and now she’s disappeared… _most_ mysterious!”

“Maybe it’s a kidnapping?” Jenny suggested. “Perhaps there’ll be a ransom demand? I can’t believe that I was one of the last people to see her before she vanished! Her poor family though, they must be beside themselves with worry.”

Jenny seemed as though she didn’t know whether to be gleeful at the drama or tormented with worry.

“Well, you might want to just keep that to yourself for the time being,” Mr Walter warned her. “It’s best not to get too involved. Bad enough that we had the police in here this morning, we don’t want the store’s name associated with any sordid sort of affair. Best keep out of things until we know what’s what.”

The manager left her then, and as she turned back to folding sweaters I turned and hurried home, anxious to speak to Carlisle.

He came out to the car to help me carry in the packages, looking tired and strained. I didn’t want to add to his worries but he needed to be aware of what’s happening in town.

“They’re searching for her. Her family, her fiance’s family, the police…oh, the whole town is in an uproar over her disappearance!” I kept my voice low, not sure how acute Rosalie’s hearing would be and not wanting her to know.

Carlisle shook his head. “I suppose I knew they would be.”

“I’m sure it will be well,” I said consolingly. “But we shall have to be so careful Carlisle. This won’t be like it was when it was Edward or I.”

It was already clear that it would be different. While I had had to be careful in Ashland and not frequent any of the places where I would be likely to run in to someone I knew, I was able to be anonymous enough walking the streets. Carlisle and Edward had left Chicago almost immediately upon his change, and Edward had learned to be a vampire in an unfamiliar place. But Rosalie’s striking looks and what would become the infamy of her disappearance would make any attempt to living quietly and inconspicuously in this area impossible.

I followed Carlisle up to the spare room. For once Rosalie was quiet, although she continued to toss her head from side to side agitatedly. I put the clothes away neatly, leaving out an outfit to dress her in instead of Carlisle’s shirt, and then went and sat on Carlisle’s lap as he sat beside Rosalie. He wrapped his arms around me and leaned his face tiredly against my hair. I stroked his cheek tenderly and whispered, “It will work out, you know.”

“I hope so,” Carlisle said. “I really hope so.”

 


	33. When She Woke

The transformation from human to vampire in Rosalie Hale was extraordinary. Of course I had never seen it before, and I watched in fascination as the injuries healed themselves and her soft, peaches and cream skin turned into the diamond hard perfection of the vampire. I remembered seeing her at a charity ball a few weeks previously and thinking how pretty she was then, but her human prettiness paled in comparison to the flawlessly exquisite vampire beauty that was revealed during her change.

“Edward should be home tonight,” I said to Carlisle on the third night. He had stayed out hunting in order to give us some privacy, and I wondered what his reaction would be upon his return.

“I wonder what Edward will think of her,” Carlisle said, his voice echoing my thoughts.

“Perhaps he’ll be happy. She is more his age than you or I, and she’s very beautiful. He may enjoy having a…companion.” I smiled for a moment, my imagination taking flight as I thought of Edward perhaps falling in love with this girl, as Carlisle and I had fallen in love.

Carlisle pointedly raised his eyebrows at me but he couldn’t hide his smile. “I hope you’re not going to try and play matchmaker Esme Cullen!”

I giggled, but shook my head. “No, I won’t. I’m not saying I wouldn’t _like_ it if something were to happen, but I won’t do anything.”

However almost as soon as Edward returned it became clear that his initial reaction to Rosalie was not going to be very positive. He had heard the situation from our minds as he got close to home, so we didn’t need to explain anything as he entered the spare room and stood beside the bed, looking down at her.

“Rosalie Hale? What were you thinking, Carlisle?” Edward asked incredulously.

“I couldn’t just let her die,” Carlisle said after a long pause, sounding weary. “It was too much- too horrible, too much waste.”

I remembered the way I had first seen her, so brutalised, and I understood his feelings. But Edward seemed only irritated as he shook his head. “People die all the time. Don’t you think she’s just a little recognisable though? What are we going to do with her?”

“That’s up to her, of course. She may wish to go her own way,” Carlisle shrugged.

Edward left the room, and I followed him down to the living room. He sat down at the piano, idly touching the keys as he looked back at me. “I can’t believe he did this again.”

I frowned. “I don’t think you should be too hard on Carlisle, not when you consider how she was when he found her. And he’s struggling with his conscience enough as it is. He doesn’t need you to make him feel guilty,” I said reprovingly.

Edward sighed. “I know. I saw in his mind…I _do_ understand his impulse to heal her in the only way he could.”

“And it might work out beautifully having Rosalie as part of our family,” I said cheerfully. “After all, didn’t things happen so nicely when it was me?”

Edward threw his head back and laughed. “Esme! But yes…of course it was good when it was you.” He smiled at me affectionately. “I’ve always been glad that Carlisle found you and changed you when he did. I’m just not sure…I mean, _Rosalie Hale?_ ”

“Don’t pre-judge her,” I warned him. “We don’t know her.”

“I listened to her mind for about three minutes at that charity ball,” Edward countered. “That was enough!”

“Well, people change! Give her a chance. I mean it Edward, there is more to everyone than a brief few minutes of their private thoughts,” I said sternly.

He grinned and winked at me. “Very well then Mother Esme! I’ll go upstairs and talk to Carlisle now.”

Edward went upstairs again and sat beside Carlisle as I stood in the doorway. “She’s still screaming? Even after two full days?”

I saw Carlisle wince as he nodded. He had told me that Rosalie’s screaming was like nothing he had experienced with Edward and I, and I knew how much anguish the almost three days of relentless, agonised shrieking had caused him.

“What?” Carlisle suddenly said, turning to Edward. “What can you hear?”  

“It was her fiancé,” he said flatly. “He’s the one that did it to her…he and his friends.”

“Surely not,” Carlisle’s voice was shaking. “You must be mistaking what she’s thinking.”

“No, I’m not mistaken. It’s very clear Carlisle. It was Royce King Junior who is responsible for this. Not solely…there were others…but he began it.”

I felt sick, seeing all too clearly what it must have been like for Rosalie. Her fiancé, someone who was supposed to love her and cherish her, forcing himself on her, hurting her… “We must go to the police!”

“And say what?” Edward said savagely. “As far as the world knows she’s missing and it’s going to have to stay that way. We can hardly walk into the police station and tell them how we know! _Oh yes, Rosalie Hale…we turned her into a vampire and now through my psychic gifts we know that it was a member of the most prominent city families who raped and beat her…”_

 _Raped and beat her…_ I couldn’t help flinching. My human memories were dim, but there were some things that roused sudden deep flashes of remembering and I didn’t like it.

“Edward,” Carlisle said in quite reproof, before he crossed the room and clasped my hands. He looked sad, but his eyes on mine were steady. “You do see that Edward’s right though. We can’t possibly go to the police.”

I shook my head, wanting to deny the inevitable truth. “But that means he’ll get away with it. Carlisle…we can’t allow it! He’s a monster, and I can’t think that it’s safe for him to be free…who knows how many other girls have suffered at his hands, or will suffer in the future?” I knew that violence against women was seldom an isolated occurrence.

“I can’t listen to her anymore.” Edward rose abruptly to his feet and looked at me with a set face. “But don’t worry Esme…he won’t get away with it.”

I knew what he had done about Charles, the last man he had thought should not get away with perpetuating brutality, and I shuddered. Carlisle, who had still never found out about that, touched my cheek.

“We will do something,” he promised. “You’re right that the man is a menace. If he could do this to his fiancé…well, who knows what else he is capable of? But before we can think about dealing with King we need to focus on Rosalie. She will wake soon, and I can’t predict how she will react.”

I looked from his eyes, dark with thirst, to the form of Rosalie lying so still and pale on the bed. “You should go and hunt,” I suggested, forcing myself to sound calm. “We’ll need you at your full strength when she wakes, and you have a little time before that happens.” I leaned against him and kissed him, wishing briefly that I could take him away, just for a short time and do what only I could to settle his mind and cheer his heart.

Carlisle sighed. “You’re right. Watch over her, and I will be back as soon as I can.”

Once he had left I fetched my hairbrush and comb and sat beside Rosalie, working the tangles and snarls out of her long hair until it lay in rippling waves of gold around her pale, motionless face.

“You’re like a work of art, lying there,” I said wonderingly. “I’ve never seen a face so perfect…I wonder what you’ll think of it when you wake? I wonder what you’ll think of all of this? It’s such a shock, suddenly discovering that the monsters are real…and then realising that you’re one of them. A vampire…even the word sounds menacing. Of course, we do try not to be monsters at all and you’ll see that. We’ll all help you as much as we can while you adjust. Carlisle and Edward were so kind when it was me, I remember how they made things easier, so we’ll all have to try and do that to you.” I hesitated. “Carlisle is a good man. He did this because he couldn’t bear to see your life ended so terribly…I hope you can see that. I hope that in time you’ll come to see this existence the way I did- as a second chance.”

Rosalie didn’t move. The venom had done most of its work, and her body was still and hard and perfect. The only thing human about her now was her heartbeat, although it was abnormally fast as it raced towards the end. I knew she wouldn’t move again until she woke.

Carlisle returned and came and stood beside the bed once again, listening to the thundering heartbeat. “It should be today,” he told her. “You will start to feel better very soon Rosalie. Just wait for that…you’ve been very brave, and it’s nearly over.”

Edward was standing in the doorway and he beckoned me over at the same time as he said, “Carlisle, I think you should stand back here. I don’t think you want to be too close to her when she wakes up.” 

Carlisle looked confused, but did as Edward suggested and an instant later Rosalie’s eyelids lifted and we saw her eyes for the first time, glowing a vivid, ruby red. She caught sight of us and immediately sprang from the bed, landing with her body pressed up against the far wall as she stared at us suspiciously.

“What have you done to me?” she demanded, her words laced with a kind of venomous fury. “What have you done to me, doctor?”

I was relieved that Rosalie at least seemed to recognise Carlisle. He nodded at and took a slow step towards her as he said soothingly, “Rosalie, my name is Carlisle Cullen. This is my wife, Esme, and this is Edward. You are in our home, and you are quite safe now.”

She spared Edward and I barely a glance before her eyes fastened on Carlisle again. “I want to go home. You’ve been keeping me here and I won’t have it. Take me home now!” She stamped her foot and glared, clearly a girl not used to being denied what she wanted.

Carlisle kept his voice low and even as he spoke to her again. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. You’ve been here three days Rosalie, and certain things have changed. Do you remember the things I told you?”

“She remembers,” Edward answered for Rosalie, easily reading her thoughts from her head. “But she thinks you were lying. She thinks you took her to hell.”

Once again my sympathy was stirred. It was easy to imagine her terror, first her attack and then the days of burning agony caused by the transformation. Blaming it on the devil taking her to hell did not seem an unreasonable story for her mind to have dreamed up to explain it all.

Rosalie hissed at Edward, then tossed her head. “Of course you were lying!” she sneered. “Such fairy tales and horror stories belong in the nursery, and I’m not a child. I don’t know what you think you’re doing here but I want no part of it. You seem to know my name and know who I am, and I insist you take me home immediately!”

For a moment I was quite relieved that I was in the doorway with Edward, half hidden behind Carlisle who was bearing the brunt of Rosalie’s enraged glare and snarled words.

“Do you remember me finding you in the alley? You had been very badly hurt Rosalie. You were dying…I did the only thing I could for you,” Carlisle said softly.

Rosalie pressed herself more tightly against the wall, and I bit my lip as I watched terror and rage fight for dominance in her face.

Edward shook his head. “She remembers that too. I wouldn’t talk about that part of things with her Carlisle, not now…it’s making her even more agitated and she needs to understand.”

Ignoring him, Rosalie snarled at Carlisle, “I remember that. And I remember that you brought me here and tortured me even more…what kind of doctor are you?”

Carlisle refused to rise to the bait. “The things I spoke of to you are true,” he said gently. “They were not nursery tales Rosalie, but facts. There are vampires in the world and that is what Edward, Esme and I are. That is what you have become.”

Rosalie refused to be placated, and clenched her fists and stamped her foot as she shouted, “No! Stop it! I don’t want to hear your lies. I am Rosalie Hale and I want nothing to do with you! _Now let me go!”_

“She doesn’t _want_ to believe anything,” Edward murmured to Carlisle and I. Raising his voice a little he said, “Go and look in the mirror Rosalie. Go on!”

Rosalie crossed the room to the mirror, her movements sinuous and predatory. She kept her distance from us, her eyes keeping us away with their vitriol, until she caught sight of her reflection and then it was as thought we didn’t even exist as she stared at herself. I saw the wonder in her eyes, the flash of pleasure at her own beauty, and the glimmer of her new, razor sharp teeth as she smiled.

I smiled too. Perhaps now that she’d seen herself she would be ready to listen to us. I knew it would be difficult, but she was young and she would adjust, just like Edward had…

Or perhaps not.

Edward gave us a second’s warning, “Watch out, she’s going to throw things.”

Both Carlisle and I took a step back, just in time. Rosalie gave a bone-chilling scream of rage that echoed through the house, and then I just watched in blank astonishment as she launched into the biggest tantrum I had ever seen. The glass in the mirror exploded outwards under the force of her hurling the dresser set at it, and then even the furniture in the room was smashed under the onslaught of her rage. “Why? WHY?” she screamed at Carlisle, throwing the splintered remains of the dresser stool at him. “Why did you do this to me?”

My sympathy grew as her rage ebbed. I saw the growing terror in her face as she realised that this wasn’t a dream, or a nightmare, or divine retribution for some human sins, but that something had happened and this was her life. At last the final vestiges of her tantrum faded, and she stood in the middle of the rubble she’d turned my spare bedroom into and looked at us, grief stricken. “Why?”

Carlisle shook his head, and I heard the pain in his voice as he answered her. “There was no other choice. You could not have survived that assault any other way.”

Rosalie breathed deeply, obviously considering, and then said quietly, “What now?”

 _At least she’s ready to listen_ , I thought. Seeing her swallow convulsively made me remember the initial burn of the thirst and I stepped around Edward and held out my hand towards her in invitation. “Are you thirsty?”

Rosalie’s eyes met mine with cold defiance. “Yes.”

Carlisle touched my hand. “I explained this to you during your change,” he said to Rosalie. “Although we are vampires, my family and I have made a conscious choice to avoid human lives and we survive by drinking the blood of animals.”

Rosalie looked revolted, her lip curling in disgust.

“It’s the venom,” Edward said to her, probably answering some thought he had plucked from her head. “You don’t like the idea, but your body knows what it wants now.”

It was clear how thirsty she was. Her body was not still, all her movements growing increasingly tight and agitated, and I could see the slight lift of her head and flare of her nostrils as her body instinctively sought out prey.

Edward met my eyes with a look of concern. “She’s very thirsty. We should go now. If she smells a human she won’t be able to stop.”

Rosalie stamped her foot again. “Go where? I’m so thirsty…I want a drink.”

“We know Rosalie,” I said kindly, beckoning to her. “Come with us now. We’ll find you something.”

I could see her hesitation. I didn’t blame her really, after what she’d been through. And I had to remind myself that we were practically strangers to her. But I did my best to smile at her comfortingly, and after another pause Rosalie followed as the three of us led her downstairs, ready to take on her first vampire feeding.


	34. Blood and Fear

“I think I’ll bring something to her,” Carlisle murmured to me as we stepped out onto the porch. “I’m not sure how well she’ll be able to learn to hunt in her current frame of mind.”

He and Edward vanished into the forest, and I was left with Rosalie, who paced edgily along the porch.

“What are they doing? Why won’t you give me something to drink? I’m so thirsty!” she snapped imperiously.

“Carlisle and Edward will find you something,” I answered. “It will be fine Rosalie…you’ll learn to hunt your own food in time but Carlisle thinks this first time should be easy, and he will bring you something.”

She tossed her head and didn’t answer, and I was relieved when Carlisle and Edward came speeding out of the forest, both of them carrying deer. I could smell the heavy scent of blood, and I watched as Rosalie smelled it too. Her head lifted, and a low growl escaped her throat as she leaped off the porch and drew to a stop near Carlisle.

I watched as he knelt, laying the deer out in front of him. “I broke his back,” he said calmly to Rosalie. “Right here, so he can’t move. You won’t have to do that when you hunt for yourself but it makes it easier this first time. It’s all right Rosalie, you can come closer…it’s yours.”

Rosalie’s face bore evidence of clear disgust, but even so she drifted closer, falling to her knees beside the deer. I watched with a heavy heart as the repulsion warred with her desire, and she whimpered in desperate confusion.

“She’s still thinking like a human. It’s almost interesting really, her new instincts at war with what she thinks…” Edward was beside me, eyeing Rosalie like she was a specimen in Carlisle’s study.

“Never mind, Edward,” Carlisle murmured. “We have time Rosalie, lots of time to make this change. It’s rather a surprising amount of control actually,” he added to Edward and I, sounding curious.

Rosalie was clenching and unclenching her fists, unable to tear her eyes away from the pulse beat in the deer’s neck.

“I know you want it, Rosalie. I understand that it feels strange to you, but it’s what you need right now. Your body, your _vampire_ body, knows how to do this if you let it,” Carlisle said steadily.

He nudged the deer closer, and Rosalie’s eyes closed as she bent forward, moving unerringly towards the easiest place to breach the neck and get the artery. For a moment I saw her teeth and the venom glinting on her lip and then she clamped her mouth onto the animal and bit.

It was an unnerving sight. Rosalie was so exquisitely feminine, so delicately beautiful, and yet she was down on her knees in the yard with blood running out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin, and snarling at Carlisle as he accidently moved closer and she felt threatened. It reminded me of the first time I had seen Carlisle feed, and the uncomfortable shock of _really_ seeing the reality of this life. Pretty and sparkly and perfect…but the other side of it was dark and violent and bloody, and we could never forget that.

“Good girl,” Carlisle said encouragingly. “Drink it all, you’ll feel better.”

Rosalie raised her head, her eyes flat as she tossed the body aside and glared at Carlisle. “I want more,” she hissed.

Edward threw another deer at her, and the three of us watched as she unhesitatingly tore into this one, her eyes closed and her face intent on the pleasure of the blood. Carlisle caught my eye and gave me a strained smile, and I smiled back hopefully. The blood would be making Rosalie feel better, and once she was done perhaps we could begin to get to know her a little.

Rosalie tossed aside the deer with a low growl and then sat back on her heels. “It still burns,” she said petulantly.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. That will ease with time, although it is something you’ll have to get used to. It will be worse when you are around humans, or when you’re exceptionally thirsty,” Carlisle explained.

Rosalie sighed impatiently. “When can I go home? When will you take me to see my parents?”

Carlisle spoke gently but firmly. “That won’t be possible Rosalie. You’re a vampire now, and you must accept that your life with be different from now on. I’m afraid there is no going back.”

Shock and then rage flitted across Rosalie’s face. “But I didn’t want this! I didn’t want my life to be different!”

Her outrage made me wonder just how many times in her life Rosalie had been forced to accept things she didn’t want to.

Unaware of her own strength, Rosalie gripped the antlers of the deer body beside her and shattered them in her hands. She made a noise of disgust and then turned her hands up, inspecting them.

“There’s no damage. There’s very little on this earth that can injure you now, Rosalie,” Edward said tightly. As Rosalie stared at him intently he went on, “You can feel how strong you are. You crushed those antlers without effort. You can feel the strength and power your body has now…imagine yourself running Rosalie, or jumping or climbing. Your bones can’t be broken and there is nothing short of vampire teeth that can penetrate your skin.

I saw her flinch. “No one can hurt me? I’m stronger than… _they_ were?”

“Much, much stronger than they were,” Edward answered darkly.

I wanted to wrap her in my arms and hug her. I wanted to brush her hair out of her face and tell her how sorry I was about what had happened to her, but that she was safe now and we were here to take care of her. That we would be her friends and her family in this strange new world for as long as she wanted us, and that she didn’t have to be so defensive.

But friendliness and compassions seemed to be the last thing Rosalie wanted, as she rose to her feet in one fluid motion, flipping her long hair back over her shoulders and smoothing her dress. She made a face as she wiped her hand across her mouth and saw the blood on her hand.

“We need to bury these carcasses,” Carlisle said calmly, beginning the process of educating Rosalie. “There are a number of reasons for that Rosalie, but it is primarily because secrecy must always, _always_ , be our first priority. As a vampire you must never do anything that would betray your true nature to humans, and always dispose of any evidence that shows you are other than the human you will pretend to be.”

Rosalie looked as flabbergasted as if he’d told her to stand on her head. “I’m not digging around in the dirt!” she exclaimed. “I don’t care what you say. I’m going home.” She spun on her heel and took off towards the front of the house.

“Well, isn’t she a treat?” Edward muttered sarcastically.

“Oh Carlisle, what are to do with her?”, I said anxiously, ignoring him.

“We have to stop her,” Edward said practically. “She’s too new to go off on her own- she doesn’t understand what she’s capable of yet.”

“You’re right. She can’t be allowed to return home. That would be disastrous- we must just keep trying to talk to her” Carlisle didn’t wait before he began running.

Rosalie was running too, and I heard her delighted laugh as she began to discover her newfound speed. Carlisle reached towards her and she swung hard towards him, her face curled up in a snarl. “Don’t touch me!”

“Rosalie! You must stop!” Carlisle called. “You don’t understand what you are now. This is _dangerous!_ ”

She didn’t care. Rosalie’s stride lengthened and she began to run faster, her hair flying out behind her and glimmering in the moonlight. Carlisle, Edward and I were behind her, hoping that something might distract her long enough that we could get closer without raising her ire. Unfortunately what did distract her was the worst thing possible in the circumstances- the sweet scent of human blood.

“She’s scented the farm!” Edward shouted, putting on a burst of speed that took him ahead of Carlisle and I. “Head her off!”

Carlisle and I took off through the trees, listening to the noise of Edward and Rosalie, trying to orient ourselves to be in place to stop her before she could get to our neighbour. I thought of the elderly Mrs Coombes and her silent son and felt sick about what Rosalie might do.

Rosalie came whipping through the trees right in front of us, her eyes black with desire and desperation for what she could smell. Edward was almost directly behind her and, captured between the three of us, Rosalie screamed as we caught her up in our arms. She struggled like an animal in a trap, and somehow we all fell, the two men pinning her to the ground.

I hated to see it. Rosalie was beyond reason, there was nothing but pure, primal terror in her frantic struggle and the screams pitched so high that a human wouldn’t even be able to hear. “Rosalie, Rosalie, it’s okay…please sweetheart, it’s okay…” I murmured, trying to hide my distress.

“Carlisle, no! Get off her! She won’t run now, but she’s remembering what they did to her…if you touch her she’ll tear you apart thinking you’re them!”

Edward sprang off the struggling girl, and Carlisle rolled to the side as Rosalie rose to her feet and fled in a blur of speed. She stopped only when the broad trunk of a tree hit her back, and her hands dug into the hard wood as though it were made of sand. _“Don’t you ever touch me again!”_

Carlisle looked almost broken with the weight of his remorse, and he spoke as gently as he could. “It’s all right Rosalie. We won’t touch you. No one will hurt you again, it’s all right.”

Rosalie was trembling, and she wrapped her hands in her air and moaned. I glanced across at Edward, who cocked his head towards her and said quietly, “She’s fighting it, but mostly because she’s afraid of us. We need to make her understand, because it would a mistake to use any physical restraint with her again. She remembers too much of her human end.”

Carlisle took slow, even steps towards her. “I’m not going to touch you Rosalie. I want to help you,” he said quietly.

Rosalie hissed, a wild, feral sound, and Carlisle stopped.

“What you can smell is human blood,” he said quietly. “Feel how strongly you’re drawn towards it…this is why you cannot go home Rosalie. Not now. It is possible to resist it- as you’re doing now- but as a newborn any control you have is tenuous and you need to be careful not to ask too much of yourself. If you were to be near to your family it is likely you would hurt them.”

I could see the dawning understanding on Rosalie’s face, and I was touched again by how young and vulnerable she seemed. “You don’t have to breathe,” I suggested, carefully moving towards her. “Your body is breathing from habit and it’s part of the human façade me maintain, but it’s not necessary. If you don’t breathe you will not smell it so acutely.”

I smiled at her encouragingly and Rosalie kept her eyes trained on mine as she clamped down on her lungs.

“Come back with us now,” Carlisle urged. “Let us explain more to you. Explain the rules, teach you what you need to know, and then you can decide what you wish to do from there. We will be more than happy to have you make your home with us, but we have no intention of keeping you against your will.”

Rosalie didn’t answer, but Edward nodded at Carlisle anyway. “She’ll follow us home.”

Rosalie glared at him, and Edward sighed as he told her, “I’m a telepath. I can read your mind.”

Rosalie’s face was a study in helpless rage, and a tiny half smile drifted across Edward’s face. “I’m not a child. I’m older than you are; I was born in 1901,” he said. “Come on, let’s go back.”

Edward led the way through the forest, Carlisle and I close behind him. I glanced back at Rosalie as surreptitiously as I could, and saw that she was following us, her movements tense.

Back at the house Edward looked at Rosalie and said quietly, “You don’t get tired anymore. You don’t sleep either.”

It was just information, but she glared at him as if he’d spat at her and snapped, “Do you answer everyone straight out of their head like that? It’s extremely rude.”

“Excuse _me_. I was merely attempting to be helpful,” Edward said, affronted.

“Well, don’t!” Rosalie narrowed her eyes at him. “A person has the right to privacy in her own _head_ at least, even if it seems she has no other rights _at all_.”  Her voice shook on the last words.

The deer were still on the grass, two dead and one paralysed but alive, the heartbeat fast. Rosalie looked at it, and then Edward shrugged and said impatiently, “Oh, go and take it if you want it. You’ll be putting the poor thing out of its misery. And I know you don’t want me to listen to your thoughts, but I can’t help it when you’re practically screaming them at me.”

I glanced across at Carlisle. Where were Edward’s usually impeccable manners?

“Edward,” Carlisle reprimanded. “Please try and be patient. But go on Rosalie. The more you feed the easier things will be for you, and Edward is right that the animal is suffering.”

“She doesn’t want us to watch her,” Edward said over his shoulder as he turned back towards the house.

Rosalie growled at him, but I could tell by her quick glance at Carlisle and I that he was correct. I was frightened to leave this volatile, unpredictable newborn outside, but as she stood and stared at me I knew I didn’t really have any choice. I turned to the house.

“We’ll be inside,” Carlisle told her. “Please come and join us when you’re ready.”


	35. Anger and Grief

Once inside Carlisle sank down on to the loveseat, staring blankly at Edward and I, his mind obviously in turmoil.

“Oh my dear, please don’t get upset,” I urged. “She’s just in shock, that’s all. She’ll accept this, as we did, and…”

I didn’t get any further. My comforting words were cut off as the door was flung back on its hinges with such force that it smashed the plaster wall behind it and Rosalie, glowering with rage, stormed in.

“This is disgusting! Just look at me! Look at this mess! I hate you for doing this to me!” Her words were hurled at Carlisle like missiles as she stood there, her hands spread, showing us the blood that had spattered her dress and soaked into the ends of her hair.

“We can find you some clean clothes,” Carlisle offered, his voice faint.

I could see that he was lost in the face of her fiery anger and struggling to find some way to reach her and help her calm. Wanting to help him I rose gracefully to my feet. “Of course we can,” I said, gently touching Carlisle’s face and smiling down at him. “We’ll clean it up Rosalie, don’t fret.”

“It’s horrible!” she shouted at me, “I don’t want to be this thing that you’ve made me!”

“Come on Rosalie, let’s go and get you some fresh clothes and then we can all talk,” I said, ignoring her belligerence. Not looking at her I began climbing the stairs, hoping against hope she’d follow me. I was relieved when I heard her huffy sigh and then her footsteps behind me.

I took her to the room Carlisle and I shared, and she angrily stamped to the washbasin and began scrubbing at the blood smeared across her face.

“Ugh, there’s blood in my _hair!_ ” she whined, removing the blood soaked dress with such careless force that it tore irreparably, and then bending forward to dip the ends of her hair into the water. “This is so _vile_.”

“It won’t always be so messy,” I said cheerfully, remembering my own early days and the ruined clothes. “You’ll learn to…”

 _“I don’t want to learn! I hate this!”_ Rosalie flung her head back so hard that her hair sprayed blood tinged water across the room.

I took a clean dress and some underwear out of the dresser and laid them on the bed. “I’m sorry,” I said to her, quietly and sincerely. “Carlisle will discuss this with you, but there is no going back from this Rosalie, and you must accept it.” I crossed to the door and looked at back at her steadily. “I’ll leave you to change. We bought you some clothes while you were…transitioning. As soon as possible we’ll go shopping and you can select things to your own taste, but they’ll do for now.”

When I reached the bottom of the stairs my heart caught as I saw Carlisle with his head bowed in misery, his face in his hands. I bent low over him, brushing my hands through his beautiful soft hair and kissing his neck tenderly.

Carlisle’s face was bleak when he raised it to mine. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I am _so sorry…”_

I shook my head and took a deep breath before I said firmly. “You don’t need to be sorry. What’s done is done, Carlisle, and we will all deal with it all. _All of us_ ,” I emphasised, looking across at Edward who looked back, his face inscrutable.

Indeed. Our family now included Rosalie, a volatile, rage filled newborn who seemed to hate us all on sight. But what had been done couldn’t be changed, and all we could do now was deal as best we could.

At least on the surface Rosalie seemed calmer when she reappeared in the living room. She was washed and dressed and looked like the perfect young lady as she nodded at us and sat decorously in an armchair.

“Rosalie, I want to express how sorry I am that this has happened,” Carlisle plunged right in. “Believe me when I say I would not have changed you if there was any other choice. Transformation is not something I undertake lightly. You, Edward and Esme were all dying when I made that choice for you, and in more than two hundred and fifty years you three are the only people that I have saved by changing.”

Rosalie’s eyes widened. “Two hundred and fifty years? You’re older than that?”

“Yes. I became…what I am…approximately two hundred and seventy years ago. Edward has been with me since 1918 and Esme since 1921. As a vampire you do not age, so what you are when you are changed is what you will remain.”

I couldn’t tell what Rosalie thought about that, but of course Edward could and he gave a sudden, mocking laugh. I wanted to throttle him when I saw the rage return to Rosalie’s face as she said savagely, “Don’t you _dare_ laugh at me!”

“Please listen,” Carlisle intervened before things could escalate. “As I’ve said to you, the most important rule you need to remember is secrecy Rosalie. Esme, Edward and I have made the choice to preserve human life and we maintain the façade that allows us to take part in the human world. I am a doctor, and Edward is attending college. You may make that choice too, and we would be delighted to have you as part of our family if that is what you wish. You may prefer to make your own way in the world. Even then secrecy must always be at the forefront of your mind. We can help you with money if you need it, or you may prefer to become a nomad like some others of our kind, travelling and avoiding the human world.”

I watched her closely, feeling tense. She had been awake and aware for only hours, and to be quite truthful we had not seen anything but rage and temper and hate from her…but I wanted her to stay. I wanted this broken, damaged girl to stay and find her feet in this supernatural world with the comfort and help of a family at her back, because I knew on an instinctive level that she needed it. I wanted to help her the way I had been helped, to come to terms with the past and find happiness with this second chance. My heart lightened when I saw the slight shake of Edward’s head, and I knew he had been listening to her mind and that she didn’t want to leave.

“As I said, we’ll be happy to have you with us, although I must warn you that our particular lifestyle can be difficult. You’ve felt the thirst when you scented human blood, and that was at some distance. You did very well though Rosalie, to resist as you did and leave the hunt, so I’m very confident you’ll be able to manage.” Carlisle gave her a bright smile.

Rosalie was clearly thinking furiously, and I wished I knew her thoughts. Unfortunately whatever it was caused Edward to chuckle lightly, and once again Carlisle rushed to intervene before Rosalie’s temper erupted again.

“We will teach you to hunt, and how to blend in to the human world. It’s not all bad Rosalie. As Edward told you, you will never feel tired, have no need to sleep, no bodily functions to take care of apart from feeding. You will never get sick, or be hurt, or feel cold or pain. You’re very beautiful, and your memory and senses are now unparalleled in the human world. You’re not invincible, but it takes a great deal to destroy a vampire. Dismemberment and fire, precisely, but it’s not something that happens often.”

Rosalie shook her head. I could imagine how her mind was whirling and I smiled at her next question, which was almost the same as one I could remember asking Carlisle and Edward on my first day.

“What do you _do?”_ she said plaintively. “If you don’t sleep, there must be so much _time…”_ Her voice trailed off.

“I work,” Carlisle informed her. “Edward attends school or college…that will be an option for you later on, when you are comfortable that you can control yourself around humans. Esme spends time gardening and renovating our homes, sewing and reading. We all read, and have a very extensive library that is of course at your disposal now. Edward plays the piano. What did you do with your spare time…before?”

“I talked to people. Visited friends, went shopping and went to parties and to afternoon teas. I was preparing for my _wedding_ …” Her face contorted with a mix of horror and revulsion. When she spoke again her voice was like ice. “I was about to get everything I wanted. Marriage, and babies and wealth and now…I don’t suppose you’ll allow any of that.”

“I’m afraid it’s not quite that simple.” Carlisle’s eyes met mine, reflecting the sadness I was feeling. This poor girl…what had we done to her?

Rosalie began pacing, wringing her hands in agitation. “So you’ve made me into this… _thing_ , this monster! Not only that, I can’t do anything I like to do, I can’t have anything from my old life, I can’t…I’ve lost everything.” Her voice dropped to the tiniest whisper of pain. “You’ve taken _everything_ from me… _you should have let me die.”_

Before we could say anything she fled, bolting from the room. I sprang to my feet, instinctively starting to go after her, but Edward reached the door first and held up a hand.

“She’s not going anywhere,” he said, and his voice was full of pity as we all heard Rosalie’s devastated howl echo through the house.

I gripped Carlisle’s hand, pressing into his side as the two of us looked through the window at Rosalie. She sat alone on the porch, huddled into herself and hiding her face, and once again I felt a wave of pity for her. Oh, she was behaving horribly…but she was still almost a child and her grief and devastation were almost palpable.

I left Carlisle watching over her, keeping vigil with her grief. I wandered upstairs, thinking about her belief that she’d lost everything. I remembered, through a blurred veil of vampire years, my own dark night on the cliff, when my own feelings of loss and despair had driven me to death and my heart ached. I wished there was something I could do for her, something to give her at least a sliver of hope that there would be light after this darkness.

“She won’t listen to you,” Edward said to me, appearing suddenly at my side. “She hates us all.”

“She’s upset,” I said, struggling to stay calm. “This is very new and frightening for her Edward, it’s understandable that she’s on edge.”

Edward snorted. “On edge…you and I didn’t behave like this.”

I frowned at him. “I’m surprised at your lack of compassion Edward. You haven’t been very kind to Rosalie. Or Carlisle, who is feeling dreadful about this whole business,” I added pointedly.

Edward rubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I could have been more helpful. I’ll try.” He gave me a self-deprecating smile. “It’s just…she’s not like you were.”

I hugged him, recognising it as a compliment. “Thank you. But really Edward…give her a chance.”

I went back downstairs as dawn was beginning to streak the sky and touched Carlisle’s back. He looked down at me with a half smile and wrapped his arms around me, stroking my hair as he sighed.

“She’ll settle down,” I said to him, feeling the tension in his body. “I’m sure she will. You did the only thing you could for her in the circumstances.”

Carlisle’s voice was desolate. “I could have let her die. Edward was right when he said that people die all the time and I let them go. Why not this time?”

I didn’t answer. I _couldn’t_ answer, although I actually did feel that I understood Carlisle’s impulse, at least a little. There was something about Rosalie, some spark of glittering potential that went far deeper than her pretty face. I could see why Carlisle would have been drawn to save her although I couldn’t, at that point, articulate it.

“If only there had been time to _think!_ ” he muttered. “But it was a desperate situation Esme…and you saw what they did to her. How could I see someone so young and beautiful die like that?”

“You couldn’t, of course you couldn’t!” I said with feeling, remembering with a shudder the hideous sight of Rosalie’s brutalised body. “Rosalie will accept her new life and find a way of living that she finds enjoyable.”

_Surely she will…she has to, doesn’t she?_

Carlisle kissed me gratefully, “It’s put us all into a difficult situation though. You know of her family Esme, and the family she was marrying in to, and her disappearance has caused a furore. They have the police force and half the country out hunting for any sign of her. Even that swine she was supposed to marry is playing the part of the heartbroken fiancé. I don’t believe my pacifist principles have ever been as sorely tested as they were when Edward told me he saw the brute talking with the police as though he cared for her, when I know the atrocities he inflicted upon the poor child!”

I felt a stab on unease. “I’m sure there’s no evidence that you were in any way in involved.”

Carlisle chuckled a little. “No, there wouldn’t be. I’m not expecting any police knocks on the door!” He sobered a little as he went on. “My concern is more that she is so recognisable. She was pretty enough as a human to attract attention…just imagine the human reaction to her now! We’ve always done our best to blend in and avoid notice, but I don’t know how possible that will be for Rosalie. I doubt there’s a human male in the country who isn’t going to look at her. There’s no question about taking her out anywhere in the area as she’s bound to be recognised locally. I know we’d planned on staying here longer, but I think our only option is to move on as soon as possible. Teach her to hunt here, make sure she really understands what she is and the way we live, and then move on somewhere else for a new start for all of us.”

I felt my spirits fall a little. I loved our life in Rochester and it would make me sad to leave it. But we owed Rosalie the chance to live her new vampire life to the fullest, so I nodded resolutely. “If that’s the best thing do to, then we’ll do it. We can make it work Carlisle. We’ll be a family, you and I and Edward and Rosalie. I think it will be lovely to have another female around, and it will be good for Edward to have the companionship of someone closer to his age.”

I had been thinking only of friendship between the two of them, of Rosalie helping pull Edward out of his habit of brooding and of Edward helping Rosalie settle in, but the look Edward gave me as he walked into the room made even that seem doubtful.

“Please don’t get your hopes up on that point. This is definitely not what I needed…and you should know that she’s sitting out on the porch listening to every word you’ve been saying.”

I raised my eyebrows at Carlisle, mentally running through our conversation. I didn’t think we’d said anything terribly upsetting, but I had to admit Rosalie’s reactions prior to this had all been unpredictable. “We should go out and talk to her,” I murmured. “She’s calm now, perhaps we can get somewhere.”

Carlisle and Edward nodded, and the three of us went outside and joined the newest member of our family on the porch.


	36. Dark Castles and Coffins

I sat beside Rosalie on the porch, giving her a quick smile. She didn’t smile back, but she didn’t object to my presence either, and when I saw the way she flinched away from Carlisle when he came anywhere near her I thought that I should be grateful for that much tolerance.

Carlisle looked at Rosalie. “We need to dispose of those deer before the sun is fully risen,” he said carefully, but Rosalie’s calmer mood apparently did not extend that far. Pouting, she turned her face away from Carlisle and made it very clear that she had no intention of moving.

“I’ll do it,” Edward said, a note of impatience in his voice. “That will be easier than arguing this one out now.”

He vanished into the forest with the carcasses, and I was grateful for his help. Rosalie would _have_ to learn, but in her tense and brittle state it seemed better not too push too hard.

“It’s just as well that you heard our discussion,” Carlisle said. “We had no intention of hiding anything from you as it happens; decisions affecting the family are always discussed together. I suppose we’re also used to Edward, who doesn’t really need to be told things directly! We were just uncertain as to whether you were ready to discuss the future at this point.”

“What future? Killing things?” Rosalie wasn’t shouting, but her voice was hard and I couldn’t help wincing at the ugliness of her words.

Carlisle touched me comfortingly on the shoulder and said lightly, “Everyone has to eat. We try to be responsible about our hunting by burying the remains, feeding upon wild animals rather than any farmer’s stock, doing we can to not impact the local ecosystem in a negative way. Esme keeps abreast of news of rare and endangered species and we will generally avoid those.”

 Rosalie snorted contemptuously. “You’re vampires with ethics?”

I saw Edward smiling as he appeared again, brushing dirt off his hands. “We refer to ourselves as vegetarians,” he said to Rosalie. “A little joke.”

“Hilarious,” she muttered.

Carlisle changed the subject. “Esme and I were discussing our future plans. Rosalie, you’re perhaps a little too conspicuous to risk appearing anywhere public. You do understand that no one from your old life can see you as you are now? To them it must be as though you had died. I cannot stress to you enough how important secrecy is, not only for us but because of what would happen to any human who discovers too much about us.”

I watched her anxiously. Rosalie’s whole vampire future hinged on her ability to accept what she was, and so far she had not seemed in the least inclined to do so.

Rosalie’s face was still furious, but at least she didn’t shout when she snapped, “I hate this! But yes…I understand.”

Carlisle’s next words were slow and gentle, “Your family and…your family are searching the state for you Because of your youth, because of your connections, because of the mystery surrounding your disappearance this affair has garnered a great deal of public attention. It is important that you are not seen, not even a distant glimpse of you. I think for a time we should stay here while you adjust; this house was chosen for its isolation and we’ll be quite safe here. We can teach you to hunt during darkness, and use the days to teach you how to harness your new vampire abilities and behaviours to pass as human while we consider where we’ll settle next.”

Rosalie’s face went taut.

“Don’t think of him,” Edward said with sudden force. “He won’t get away with it.” He glanced at Carlisle and I. “We’ll think of something.”

But Rosalie did not want Edward’s pity, or his help.

“No!” she snarled, her eyes glittering with hatred. “None of you are to do anything! He will pay – oh yes, he’ll pay! – but I want to be the one to deal out justice for this.” She looked away, and her voice dropped to a mere whisper of grief. “You’ve taken everything from me…at least leave me this. At least let me choose how it ends.”

Carlisle’s shoulders dropped in defeat, and my heart ached for him. How difficult for him, to have done something in good faith and with the honest belief that he was doing right, and have it come to this. A broken, enraged girl who was glaring at him as an enemy who had done her an unforgiveable wrong.

But what was done was done, and Rosalie would have to accept that. As with all of us, we had to take what life had given us and make the best of it.

“Come with me Rosalie,” I said. “I’ll show you around the house.”

Rosalie didn’t say anything, but she followed me willingly enough and I was glad. I wanted to take her away from Carlisle and give him a chance to regroup, to try and centre himself in this situation we were now caught in.

But I also wanted to get Rosalie on her own. Away from Carlisle whom she appeared to loathe, and away from Edward who seemed to antagonise her, I hoped that she might relax enough to talk to me.

“We moved here in 1931,” I told her cheerfully, propping open the door she had broken and making a mental note that we’d need more plasterboard. “This is our living area, and as you can see we spend most of our time here.” I gestured towards the large table with its books and papers, the many bookshelves and Edward’s piano and records.

Rosalie may not have been willing to control her temper, but she had clearly been drilled in manners and etiquette. “It’s lovely. You have some beautiful things.” I noticed her gaze lingering on some of the art and sculpture.

“The house is yours now too,” I told her sincerely. “You must feel free to make yourself at home.”

She didn’t respond to that.

I led her into the kitchen, which looked exactly like a kitchen should, although it was never used for cooking of course. Rosalie looked around, and I caught the flicker of surprise.

“You didn’t expect it to be so ordinary?” I asked lightly.

“No,” she said bluntly. “You’re vampires- I expected all dark castles and coffins. I’ve read Dracula you know.”

I giggled, and once again she looked surprised. “It’s really not like that at all. We’re much more like humans than we are different, at least in the way we live. Admittedly no one cooks in here,” and I looked at a little sadly at the gleaming stove, “But I like it to be as normal as possible. It makes me feel more human, more able to resist temptation, having all this behind me.”

I was relieved to see Rosalie absorbing my words and thinking about them, and it felt as though perhaps I was making a tiny bit of progress. With a slightly lighter heart I showed her the study, feeling glad that Carlisle’s macabre collection of jars and medical implements were in storage since the house had no real space for them.

Piano music began to drift through the house, and Rosalie cocked her head to listen.

“It’s Edward playing,” I told her.

Rosalie scowled mutinously. “He’s horrible. I hate him.”

I thought it was best to diplomatically ignore that. “This is the dining room,” I said, gesturing through a doorway. “Of course, not really used for dining! I use the table in here for my sewing, because it’s large enough to cut patterns out on, and I’ll sometimes paint by the window because the light in here is very good. The bathroom is next door, and the back porch has been built in for the laundry.”

“You don’t have a housekeeper or a maid?” Rosalie asked, a little uncertainly.

I shook my head. “No. We value our privacy and don’t want strangers here. We’ve used commercial laundries in the past, but I do the washing here and most of the cleaning. Edward and Carlisle help.”

If possible, the implication that she might be expected to help with housework made Rosalie’s face glummer than ever.

“The bedrooms are upstairs,” I said, ascending the stairs. “The room you were in is at the end of the hall.” I didn’t go down that way. The door was closed, she’d already seen the room, and completely destroyed it. There was nothing more to see there. “This is Edward’s room,” I added, opening the door for a moment so she could peek in.

“He doesn’t have a bed,” she said, examining Edward’s room, which contained his large collection of records, many books, a desk and a deep, comfortable armchair.

“No, he finds he doesn’t need one. Remember that he doesn’t sleep,” I said as I closed Edward’s door and opened the door to mine and Carlisle’s room so the two of us could step inside. “I think we’ll make this your room, if you’d like that,” I said impulsively. “Carlisle and I can move our things into Edward’s room, or downstairs until the other bedroom is fixed. That way you can have this as your own space, right from now.”

It had been a spontaneous suggestion, but as I saw a brief flare of gratitude in Rosalie’s wide, red eyes I knew I’d given her something precious. A space of her own, _something_ in this terrifyingly unfamiliar world that she could call her own and a place where she could control what happened.

“We probably can’t do a great deal about the décor,” I said thoughtfully, looking around. “Although I think it’s quite nice for you anyway.” The rose patterned wallpaper was pretty and quite suitable for a girl, the curtains were pale green and the hardwood floor was decorated with a thick cream rug. The furniture was still the same teak set that Carlisle had bought for our wedding night years ago.

“It’s very nice, thank you,” Rosalie said, a little stiffly.

“We could take the bed out and then you’d have enough space for a chair or sofa and a desk,” I suggested. “But it’s all up to you of course. Give it some thought and let me know.”

Rosalie gave an almost imperceptible nod. Her hands were clasped tightly together as she looked down at the dresser, her eyes caught by the glitter of jewels in my open jewellery box.

“I don’t have my ring,” she said in a strangled voice, wringing her hands. “Do you have it somewhere? I always wear it, he likes me to…” She shook her head and closed her eyes tightly. “I can’t…can’t believe…he did that to me.”

I had a sudden flash of memory, and the clarity of it brought me up short with a startled cry. I saw in my mind’s eyes the vulnerable, human version of myself crouched on the kitchen floor, smelling the sour smell of vomit and fear as I realised that my husband had just tried to kill me.

“What?”

I took a deep breath. “You just made me remember something. I’ll probably tell you about it someday.” I looked down at her bare hands. “We don’t have your ring. You didn’t have anything when Carlisle brought you here.”

“You have pretty things,” Rosalie said, forcing an abrupt change of subject.

“Thank you. You’re more than welcome to look at them if you’d like. Look around the house…we don’t have any secrets and we want to share what we have with you.”

Rosalie’s body was almost vibrating with tension as her hands caught her hair and tugged.

“Would you like me to leave you alone for a little while?” I asked gently. “You’ve had a lot of shocks to deal with this morning, and perhaps you’d like some time to think about things.”

Rosalie rolled her head helplessly. “I suppose so.”

I quietly closed the door behind me, pausing for a minute to gather my thoughts. Already I could feel my mothering instincts rise as I thought about Rosalie and her almost palpable pain. I knew she was eighteen, but for all she had been preparing for marriage and obviously thought of herself as an adult, there was something in her that made me think she needed care. Certainly she was going to need a great deal of kindness, patience and understanding as she came to terms with her world being turned upside down.

Down in the living room Edward was playing the piano and Carlisle was sitting at the table with the newspapers. I sat beside him, brushing a kiss across his cheek as I did so, and took the papers he had finished with and began idly filling in the crossword.

“I gave Rosalie our room. We’ll have to move our personal things out. Perhaps put them in Edward’s room until we can clean up and repair the damage in the spare room?” I smiled ruefully at Carlisle. “I know you won’t mind. I felt that Rosalie might need some space she can call hers as she adjusts.”

Carlisle touched my cheek with a loving hand. “Whatever you think best.”

There was a sound from the hallway and then Rosalie appeared in the doorway. She ignored Carlisle and I, her attention focussed on Edward at the piano, and she slunk along the wall until she was standing beside him, listening.

“Music has charms to soothe the savage breast,” Carlisle murmured almost inaudibly.

We were all acutely aware of Rosalie’s presence, although all of us deliberately paid her no attention so we wouldn’t scare her away. Edward changed his music though, improvising as he switched flawlessly from what he had been playing to another piece, music that stormed and crashed and throbbed with the same volatility that Rosalie embodied. Then slowly, delicately, the music slowed, the storm coming to an end as Edward played a gentle song of peace and calm.

I watched Rosalie, feeling sad as I took in her agony and sense of isolation. She listened to Edward with her cheek resting against the wall, staring out the window with a face like stone, and I thought she looked like a marble carving of an angel, stern and sad.

Eventually Edward’s music drifted into silence, and Rosalie turned to him. For the first time the two of them looked at each other without rancour, before Rosalie said hesitantly, “Thank you,” and fled from the room.


	37. A Perfectly Beautiful Monster

“Carlisle, I think we should make a start on cleaning up the spare room and seeing what needs repairing or replacing,” I said to Carlisle. “I’d like to get it done as soon as possible so that we can settle in.”

Carlisle and I went up the stairs and stood in the doorway of the spare room, surveying the carnage. There wasn’t a wall left intact, and all the furniture looked as though it had been through an earthquake, tornado and then termite attack.

“Well,” I said at last, “I think we can safely say that _everything_ needs replacing.” I couldn’t hold back my giggles, still completely astonished at the destruction that had been caused by a girl who looked so angelic.

Carlisle laughed too, and embraced me, pressing tight against me and kissing my hair. “Sweetness, thank you for taking everything so well. I know you didn’t ask for this, and not only have I given you so much extra responsibility but she’s destroying your house at the same time!”

“Oh hush!” I laughed. “It’s fine, honestly it is. Now, let’s clean this all up.”

Thanks to vampire speed the clean up didn’t take too long, although the rubble did fill all the trashcans and several sacks. We stacked them outside for disposal later, and then I took Carlisle’s hand.

“We must take our things out of the room. Rosalie needs a place of her own, and the sooner we can help her feel comfortable the better.” I bit my lip and then said in a rush, “I want her to stay Carlisle. I know she seems…difficult, but I just feel so terribly sorry for her! I remember her of course, and it’s a tragedy that her human life should be been cut short at all, let alone to end as it did. And I _know_ what it’s like to be hurt by someone you should be able to trust… Of course what I went through with Charles wasn’t the same, but I can’t help but feel a connection to her. I want to help her find a better life, the way _you_ helped _me_.” I rested my head against his chest, my beautiful archangel doctor who had changed my world for the better just by being in it.

Carlisle wrapped his arms around me and kissed me tenderly. “I’ll do what I can to make her comfortable here,” he promised me, and smiled down at me as he knocked on the door of our old bedroom.

Rosalie was sitting cross legged on the bed when we entered, my jewellery box in front of her as she looked through the things inside. She raised her head at our entrance, glaring with a kind of angry defensiveness. “I’m not stealing anything!” she said loudly to Carlisle. “She…Esme…said I could look.”

“Of course you can look!” I said cheerfully, hoping to defuse the tension. “If you’d like to wear anything you’re welcome to do so.”

I left Carlisle to begin moving our clothes, and I sat a little hesitantly on the bed beside Rosalie. “This is one of the first things Carlisle ever gave me,” I said, pointing to the delicate silver chain with the drop pearl pendant that Rosalie held in her hand.

She didn’t seem unhappy that I was sitting with her, and emboldened I went on, lifting out a pair of solid gold scarab beetle earrings that I had always loathed. “These were sent to my by an Egyptian friend of Carlisle’s…”

Rosalie looked at them incredulously. “They’re horrific,” she said bluntly, and I threw back my head with a laugh.

“I’ve always thought the same thing! They’re probably ancient and worth a fortune, but I’ve never worn them!”

Rosalie gave a sudden girlish giggle, and my heart caught at the bell-like sound of it and the sheer beauty of her face when it was lit up with a smile.

“This is pretty though,” she said, touching another necklace.

“Edward gave that to me when I married Carlisle,” I told her. “It was his mother’s, so it was very special that he gave it to me.”

“Were you married properly? In a church?” Rosalie asked hesitantly.

I nodded. “Yes. We _did_ have to have false birth certificates to get the marriage license, but it was a traditional wedding ceremony.”

Rosalie shifted restlessly. “It doesn’t make sense. All the things like weddings and being a doctor and playing the piano, and then going out and…killing.”

For the first time I dared to touch her, laying my hands gently over hers. “You will learn to accept it for what it is,” I said simply. “We’re vampires, but we’re still just trying to be happy and live the best lives we can in the circumstances.”

Rosalie looked at me, and she didn’t bother to try and hide the confused mix of grief and unhappiness and fear that flickered over her face.

I smiled again and squeezed her hand. “Just give it time.” Going over to the dresser I picked up another velvet jewel box and opened it to show Rosalie the delicate silver tiara Carlisle once bought for me to wear to a ball. Just as I thought, Rosalie loved it and allowed me to quickly brush and pin up her hair so she could see what it looked like.

I saw Carlisle’s face as he entered the room and saw her with her beautiful face alight with her smile. I saw the flicker of relief and maybe a slight lightening of his heart as Rosalie turned to me and exclaimed happily, “Oh Esme, it’s so pretty!”

I tucked a last blonde lock into place and then gestured to the mirror. “Go and look!” I urged.

Rosalie moved to stand in front of the mirror in a blur of vampire speed, and then stood and stared at her reflection. A heaviness settled in my stomach as her smile disappeared and a cold blankness took its place.

“I look perfect,” she said flatly. “There isn’t anyone in the world more beautiful than me.”

_That’s certainly true. Why doesn’t it make you happy?_

Rosalie reached towards the mirror and touched her reflection with a delicate finger. “My eyes…”

“The colour will change,” I told her, moving closer as I remembered my own horror at seeing that vivid red staring back at me for the first time. “We’re all born to vampire life with red eyes, but if you maintain the animal diet the colour will become something like mine and Carlisle’s and Edward’s. Still not _quite_ human, but close enough.”

Rosalie moved closer to the mirror, but as she did a shaft of sunlight fell onto her and she saw the otherworldly, reflecting shimmer of her skin. I wouldn’t have thought it possible but she seemed to tighten up even more as she sucked in a breath of air.

“What is that?”

“It’s how your skin reacts to the sunlight now,” I answered quietly.

Rosalie took two waltzing steps into the sunlight and then stared at Carlisle, her eyes burning as her exposed skin glittered. “And it will always do this? Whenever I stand in the sunlight the light will reflect like this? And I’m supposed to hide what I am now.”

Carlisle’s face held the sorrow of centuries as he looked back at her steadily and answered, “Yes.”

With superhuman grace Rosalie turned back to the mirror, and her perfect, reflected visage shattered into pieces and disappeared as she smashed it with her bare hands. “ _I hate you_ ,” she hissed, a venomous sound in the quiet room. “I hate you for what you’ve done to me…get away from me _now_.”

Carlisle and I had no choice but to step quietly out of the room. A moment later I couldn’t help wincing as Rosalie slammed the door, once again not tempering her vampire strength so that the door frame cracked under the force and the door itself flew into the hall and smashed into the plasterboard wall opposite.

_Oh my goodness, my HOUSE!_

Rosalie screamed again and there was the sound of something else breaking the bedroom before she stormed out and stood in front of us, shaking with helpless rage. “I can’t even close a door! I hate this, I hate you, I HATE YOU!”

I didn’t think I’d ever known someone with such a temper. Certainly as a newborn vampire she would have less control over herself than usual, but even so this was getting ridiculous!

“I understand that you’re angry,” I said to her calmly. “I understand that you want to lash out, but please Rosalie, try and leave the house intact.”

Rosalie tossed her head back furiously, but at least made an effort to be calm when she said through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break that.”

“You just need to get used to what you can do now. Lean to harness your new strength and use it appropriately, and learn to act like a human when you need to.” I tried to sound upbeat, as though I thought all this would happen naturally and easily despite the doubts running through my head. Rosalie was so intransigent! At that time though I noticed her compulsive swallowing. “Although that can probably wait. I expect you’re thirsty now.”

 _“Yes_.” It was a feral snarl.

“Let’s go out hunting then,” Carlisle said to her, gently touching my cheek in silent thanks for helping him with her. “That’s the most important thing for you to learn.”

Rosalie’s face was taut. “Hunting. You want _me_ to go out and hunt and kill some animal?”

Carlisle sighed. “Yes. You’re thirsty, and blood is what you need now to keep you strong and healthy. I brought you the animals yesterday, but that was only for your first time. You need to learn to do this, Rosalie.”

“And if I don’t want to?” she spat.

“Then you’re going to be very, very uncomfortable. Blood is the only thing your body will tolerate now, and that burning you feel in your throat isn’t going to go away until you feed.” Carlisle shrugged.

It sounded heartless, but it was true and it was something that Rosalie _had_ to accept. All of her rage, all of her tantrums and refusals to listen and learn…none it would make any difference in the end. She was a vampire, and there were new rules now.

Rosalie must have been aware of it, on some level, because she gave me one last frightened, frustrated look but followed Carlisle out of the house.

Edward appeared upstairs, glancing from the destroyed spare room to the damaged wall in the hallway. “One room wasn’t enough? She’s trashing the hallway now?”

I sighed. “It was an accident. She’s not used to her new strength yet.”

“I hope she calms down soon,” Edward muttered. “I know you think I’m being needlessly mean, but I can hear her mind constantly and she’s so difficult to be near!”

I patted his arm consolingly. “I’m sure she’ll settle down soon. She smiled before, and talked to me reasonably…at least it’s a start!”

“She hates Carlisle and I, and she doesn’t trust any of us,” Edward said bluntly. “She sees you as vaguely acceptable because you’re a woman and because there isn’t anyone else.”

I shrugged. “That’s not surprising. She’s not making an effort to conceal her emotions- she seems to be very straightforward and honest which is a positive trait.”

Edward laughed, a little incredulously. “Esme, you have the most extraordinary ability to see the best in anyone!”

“Why shouldn’t I look for her good points?” I shook my head in exasperation. “For goodness’ sake Edward, the girl was raped and beaten nearly to death…are you really going to judge her harshly for not _trusting_ us?”

Edward flinched. “I know…god, I know how horrible what happened to her was! I’ll try to be helpful and kind to her, as much as I can, but it’s hard to listen to all that anger and desire for revenge.”

“She’ll let that go,” I said, with careless confidence. “Once she’s calmed down and learned that she can trust us, once she finds some things she enjoys about this new life, she’ll let go of her vengeful thoughts.”

I didn’t know, then, that Rosalie would never let go of anything.

_______________________________________

 I was surprised by Rosalie’s insistence on going out and testing her ability to resist human blood after she and Carlisle returned from hunting. As a newborn I had been so reluctant to challenge myself with that risk, but Rosalie was bound and determined to conquer everything. We explained the temptation, and warned her that we would stop her with force if it became necessary, and still she insisted on all of us going out in the twilight.

“Why are you so slow?” Rosalie’s first few steps took her right across the yard and into the trees before Carlisle, Edward and I had even stepped off the porch.

“We’re not slow, _you’re_ being too fast,” Edward answered. “We’re walking at a perfectly normal human pace- you’re walking at a vampire pace.”

Rosalie’s eyes were intent as she watched Edwards walk towards her, although she curled up her lip in disgust as she said, “I have to learn to _walk_ again?”

“Not exactly,” I said, quick to reassure her. “But there are a few little tricks you need to keep in mind when it comes to blending in with the human world. Mistakes don’t matter here at home, but it could be very awkward if humans notice any of the little things.”

“Like what?” Rosalie demands.

Carlisle joined the conversation. “Movement. We’ll start with that. We try and do most things at a normal human pace so that it becomes second nature to slow your movements and temper your strength. When you’re walking, stroll instead of striding out as you’ve been doing and that will keep your pace slow. Slow down all your movements.”

As I drew closer to Rosalie she fell into step beside me, keeping pace. I saw her frustration mount as she realised how much effort it was going to take to conceal her true nature now.

“That’s good Rosalie,” I said to encourage her. “Nice and even pace. Now, the next thing is to make it seem more naturally human. As a vampire you’re capable of extreme stillness- it is natural for us to be completely motionless, but of course humans don’t do that.” Rosalie looked unconvinced, so I went on brightly, “See how Edward has his hands in his pockets? Notice how Carlisle’s arms move slightly unevenly…it sounds silly when you point it out, but it’s the absence of such little movements that people instinctively notice and that make them wary of you. Try and relax yourself a little. You’ll look more natural if your back is a little less stiff, and perhaps you should drop your shoulders a little.”

I hoped she would take my suggestions as helpful ideas rather than criticisms, and I was pleased when a moment later I saw her trying to relax her painfully tense, upright stance and the tight set of her shoulders.

Unfortunately, Edward found her awkwardness funny and didn’t hold back his low laugh. I don’t think he meant anything cruel by it, but Rosalie’s hackles rose and quick as a whip she turned and slammed her hands into his chest, sending him flying.

Edward landed like a cat, almost spitting with rage. “Don’t _hit_ me!”

 _“Don’t you laugh at me!”_ she snarled back.

“Children!” I exclaimed, completely fed up with both of them. They were behaving like schoolchildren, Edward seeming to deliberately needle her and Rosalie flying off the handle at the slightest provocation. “Edward, if you can’t be helpful then just be quiet. Rosalie…you can’t hit anyone. Ever. If you had struck a human like that you would have killed them. Even if you only used a fraction of your strength it is too easy to misjudge and break bones.”

“It’s that easy then? To kill someone?” Rosalie’s voice was hard, and her eyes glittered.

I couldn’t help but recoil, feeling a sick sense of dread. What was going to happen with this girl? Was she really so full of hatred and anger that nothing we could do would be enough for her?

Edward rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s that easy. But you’re a newborn…you wouldn’t be able to get within striking distance before you were overcome by bloodlust and you’d bite them.”

“I wouldn’t,” Rosalie said in assured tones.

Edward’s lip curled up in an amused grin as he said lightly, “I guess we’ll see when we get closer to a human.”

And when the moment came, Rosalie was right. She stood straight in the face of the scent of human blood, every instinct screaming at her to run and pounce and feed, and she held herself rigid. She faced down the monster of her own vampire thirst and desire and she didn’t break. I saw the surprise and admiration of Edward and Carlisle as they watched her and I felt a whisper of shame that I had not been able to do the same as a newborn.

I looked at Rosalie, standing tall and arrogant even in the face of the dehumanising temptation of blood, and I wondered just what kind of vampire Carlisle had created from this broken, beautiful girl.


	38. Life Is What You Make It

Back at the house Rosalie prowled around the living room, taking it all in. She stopped by the table where Carlisle had left the newspapers and I felt a pang of sympathy as she saw her own face looking out from the pages.

“Don’t read it, Rosalie,” I said gently.

“No one knows what happened to me.” Rosalie’s face worked with a mix of horror and disgust. “They found my clothes, and my bag and my ring… _He_ is making an appeal for my safe return? After….” She bit her lip, fighting to control herself. “You know? Who it was?” she demanded of Carlisle.

Carlisle nodded and said steadily. “Your injuries told me what they did to you. Edward heard your thoughts and told us who it was.”

Her face tight, Rosalie shredded the newspapers viciously, obliterating all signs of her portrait and the accompanying stories as she glared at Edward.

He didn’t meet her gaze, hunched over the piano as he muttered, “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me to hear your thoughts but I can’t help it. I’m not listening in on purpose! And I don’t go around telling secrets unless I really believe it’s necessary. I thought Carlisle and I could think of some way that he could be brought to account…”

“Don’t.” Her voice was like ice. “You leave him alone. Leave him…leave all of them…to me.”

Carlisle noticed my distress at the direction the conversation was taking, and gently rubbed his thumbs on my neck, pressing his lips to the top of my head. I relaxed at his touch but couldn’t help noticing Rosalie, staring at us through narrowed eyes in a way that made me deeply uncomfortable.

“Perhaps we don’t need to worry about that now,” I said softly. “Rosalie, what would you like to do? Do you do needlework? Drawing or painting? We have art supplies and sewing things. There are plenty of books of course, if you’d prefer to read. I know you enjoyed the music yesterday- we have a record player. Do you play yourself?”

Rosalie shrugged. “My mother didn’t approve of laziness and she wanted me to be accomplished. I only finished school recently, and we learned needlework and art and piano.” She looked at Edward with unwilling admiration. “I don’t play as well as you, but I’m not awful.”

I’d always enjoyed Edward’s music and thought it might be nice to have someone else to listen to. “Perhaps you can play for us sometime.”

“I like to read,” Rosalie said hesitantly, curling her braid around her fingers.

“Well, there’s no shortage of books here! Goodness knows Carlisle can’t walk past a bookshop without going in,” I said, raising my eyebrows at Carlisle in mock severity. “Not to mention the constant mail order deliveries! Although I must confess that it’s not all him; the three of us have our own particular interests of course, but we make a point to all read the same books and have book discussions sometimes. You’re more than welcome to look through the bookshelves in here and in the study to find something that interests you, and I’m sure Edward wouldn’t mind taking you into his room to look in there either.”

As Rosalie examined the bookshelves, Carlisle slipped away to his study. I picked up my knitting and worked on my latest charity sweater, pleased with the way the navy wool showed up the cabling pattern. Apart from the sweaters I knitted for Carlisle and Edward, everything I made went to charity, but I always used high quality yarns and spent time making sure each item was finished perfectly. We were fortunate that the increasingly dismal economic situation throughout the country was not affecting our fortune and lifestyle, but I knew many others were not so lucky and I did what I could to help. I liked the idea that my sweaters were at least something pretty and stylish and warm for people who had very little else.

When Carlisle had not come back from the study a little while later, I put aside my knitting and went to see what he was doing. He was at his desk, staring blankly at an envelope lying on the blotter, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood.

“What are you doing, dearest?” I asked, gently combing my hands through his hair, smoothing it down where he had rumpled it as he wrote.

“I’ve just written my resignation letter to Dr Travers,” he answered.

“Oh Carlisle…I’m sorry. I know how you’ve enjoyed your work here.”

Carlisle sighed, and pulled me down to sit on his lap, playing absently with the buttons on the front of my dress. “I have enjoyed it, but I see no alternative but resignation now. Rosalie is far too volatile and unpredictable to leave alone. Truthfully, it worries me to think of you and Edward trying to cope with her alone, and stop her if she should be unable to control the thirst. We shall have to make preparations to move as soon as she is a little calmer and more reliable and we have somewhere suitable to go. She was too well known for us to risk having her seen, and the photographs and stories in the papers have only exacerbated that problem…” His voice trailed off, and he looked up at me with eyes that were dark with sadness. “Esme, my love…I must apologise. I know you have been happy here, and I am so sorry for all this upheaval. I didn’t realise…I acted purely on impulse to change her, and I did not think how it would impact you and Edward…”

“Hush!” I didn’t mean to sound harsh, but I couldn’t bear to see him being torn apart by his guilt. “No more.” I took his face between my hands and kissed him. “Look at me…don’t be sorry,” I said simply, when he raised his tired eyes to mine. “You saved a life, Carlisle.”

“Did I though?” he murmured helplessly. “Did I save a life, or damn a soul to this half-life of immortality?”

“Life is what you make of it,” I said steadily. “A human life or vampire life, it doesn’t matter…we make our own lives Carlisle, and how can you say that yours is only half a life? Look at what you’ve done, my dearest…how many people have lived because you saved them? How many people have you helped back to health and made their lives immeasurably better because of your compassion and skills? Not to mention what you have done for Edward, and what you’ve done for me…what you _do_ for me, every day.” I kissed him, fiercely and passionately as my love for him flared hot and bright. “Rosalie is angry and frightened and hurt. She’s confused. But she has a life, she has a _chance_ for a life now, and you should not feel sorry for that.”

I loved him so deeply, my beautiful doctor husband, and didn’t believe that there was anyone in the world who strove so hard to live with honesty and kindness and compassion as he did. I kissed him again, and felt the curl of pleasurable anticipation low in my belly as as he unbuttoned my dress and slid it off my shoulders.

“Mmm,” I sighed, as he laid me down across the desk and rapidly removed the rest of my clothes.

“Do you know how much I love you?” he whispered hoarsely, leaning over me and kissing me deeply.

“As much as I love you.” Suddenly desperate for him I clutched at his chest, pulling open his shirt and trousers, wanting him naked and ready and mine. Carlisle threw off his clothes and then sat down naked in his chair, his eyes dark as he ran his hands across my body. “You’re beautiful.”

I could feel his breath, warm and sweet as I touched his lips with my fingers and then curled my fingers in his hair. “Don’t make me wait…” I breathed, shameless in the face of this love and desire.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t do that…” And his smile disappeared as he lowered his head in between my legs and I curled my feet against him and gave myself over to pleasure.

It didn’t take long before I came, not with the days of abstinence that Rosalie’s arrival had forced. I bit my lip and closed my eyes as my body shuddered, and Carlisle loomed over me as he thrust inside me, groaning as I wrapped my shaking legs around his hips.

“Quietly,” I gasped, as my own pleasure began mounting again. I stretched my arms over my head and arched my back, feeling my breasts bounce as Carlisle moved faster. “They don’t need to hear…not now.”

Carlisle gritted his teeth and then buried his face in my neck as he came, his body trembling between my thighs and his moans smothered in my skin. I pushed up into him and kissed him hard, and said only one word. “Again.”

Effortlessly Carlisle lifted me from the desk and took me down to the bearskin rug, the legacy of my first bear hunt, which we kept in the study mostly for this purpose. There was more kissing and touching, our bodies so intimately familiar and yet capable of endless surprises and discoveries as we moved together. I loved seeing him like this, the wonder in his eyes as he looked at me, the rapture on his face as he came and the sleepy, content face he wore as we relaxed together afterwards.

“I love you,” he murmured, lying on the rug with me curled up into his shoulder. He had one hand in my hair and the other hand cupped a breast, still slowly playing with my nipple.

“And I you.” I stroked his face, then noticed the look of distraction he was beginning to wear. I knew he was listening for any noise from Rosalie or Edward. “They’re fine…you need to relax.”

Carlisle ducked his head, smiling bashfully. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel so responsible. Rosalie is so unpredictable.”

I nodded slowly. “She is tempestuous…but there is more to her than temper Carlisle. Once she accepts what has happened and settles down, I think we may be surprised by her.”

“You believe she will settle? You don’t think that the manner of her human death and the vampire change have perhaps...broken something in her permanently?” Carlisle’s asked raggedly.

I thought about Rosalie, about her brittle mood and terrible temper. Then I thought about the way she smiled when we were talking over the jewellery, and the way she had curled up in the armchair and played with her braid as she read a book. “I don’t _think_ so,” I said thoughtfully “It is difficult to judge how much she has changed since we were not well acquainted with her in her human life, but although I see a great deal of stubborn anger in her I also see much that is just a very young, frightened girl lashing out at what she doesn’t understand.”

“She is just so volatile,” Carlisle said morosely. “She is so angry…and her temper tantrums!”

I smiled at him affectionately. “She’s just a girl. A spoiled girl who has been indulged her whole life and never known a moment of real adversity until now…give her a chance Carlisle.”

“You always see the best in people,” he said.

“Oh, I don’t know!” I laughed. “If she keeps destroying my house I might have a few different things to say! But I was a girl once too.”

Carlisle’s eyes were soft and his hands gentle as he ran it over the long healed bones in my thigh. “I remember.”

My heart jumped as I, too, remembered the long ago days when I had been a girl and been awed by the golden doctor.  “Yes,” I said softly. “I remember that too. I wasn’t, it must be said, a girl quite like Rosalie seems to be! But I remember it a little, how confusing it was to be between childhood and womanhood. I’m sure Rosalie has some of those same feelings, and her life has just become a great deal more challenging. She has to process the terrible experience she has had, as well as come to terms with how different her life will be from now on.”

Carlisle spoke slowly. “It wasn’t only that night. I am nearly certain that bastard had hurt Rosalie before. The night of the charity ball we all went to she was alone in the conservatory after being out in the garden with him, and she seemed somewhat distressed. She had a bruise on her arm, as if someone had held her too tightly.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” I say, my heart heavy as I thought about what Rosalie had been through. “I cannot imagine an attack such as he led on her would come out of nowhere – I’m sure there were signs of his violent nature earlier and unfortunately a naïve girl is an easy victim for such men. But Rosalie is clearly a rather strong and determined young lady…we shall just have to guide her a little Carlisle, and help her through this phase of her life.”

___________________________________

Carlisle took his resignation letter into the clinic himself later that afternoon, and I went in search of Rosalie. I was surprised to find her in Edward’s room, standing somewhat defensively with her back against the wall, but with a half smile on her face as she listened while he played her some records.

“This is nice,” I said lightly, entering the room. I meant both the music and seeing the two of them actually in the same room in relative harmony, and Edward rolled his eyes at me.

“You have so much music,” Rosalie said in pleased tones. “Mother is so _mean_ about buying any for me, but Father loves to treat me.” A shadow crossed her face and she said a little helplessly, “I mean, he _did…_ ”

“Well, we’re happy to buy more records if there’s anything in particular you want that Edward doesn’t already have,” I said hastily, willing to do almost anything to make her happy.

Rosalie shook her head, seeming to have lost interest in the music as she focussed on her memories. “They’ll never know what happened to me?” she said in a tiny voice.

“I’m sorry, but no…you have to see that it’s impossible,” Edward said.

“Did you lose your family too?” Her voice shook.

“Not like this. My parents both died right before I was turned, we all had Spanish flu. That’s why Carlisle changed me, because I was dying,” Edward said softly.

“He did _this_ to both of you too?”

I winced at the angry way she spoke, as if what Carlisle had done was evil and unforgiveable rather than a desperate effort to save what was left of a life.

“He saved me,” I said flatly. “I would have died if it weren’t for him…all three of us would be dead if Carlisle had not done what he did. And I for one am grateful.”

There was a stony silence, and Rosalie thrust her lower lip out stubbornly. “I would rather be dead.”

“Then I feel sorry for you,” I said gently. “Because life, even vampire life, is what you make of it. You may have to change some of your hopes or dreams, but there are still many avenues opened to you and many ways in which you can make this a good, fulfilling life.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” Rosalie muttered. “You have _him_ , and you’re _old._ ”

For a moment I laughed at her youthful arrogance and simplistic view. But I let my face settle and then I said steadily, “I do have Carlisle, and certainly he lights up the dark for me. But I had to be open to finding him and giving him my heart Rosalie, and that was _not_ easy. I came into this life because my baby died at two days old and I attempted suicide. Believe me when I say that I had to make up my mind to _want_ to live again, even knowing that there would never be another baby to make up for what I had lost.”

Rosalie looked sick. “I’m sorry about your baby.”

“I am too,” I said simply. “I will always be sorry for his death, but I can’t let that stop my enjoyment of what is possible now. It won’t be easy Rosalie, but you can do that too. I believe in you.”


	39. The Burden of Regret

Rosalie’s arrival in our lives was like a tsunami, tumbling our previously ordered existence all on end and throwing us down unceremoniously in a different arrangement. Placid family harmony was certainly a thing of the past as we dealt with her temper and tantrums and misery!

But there was so much more to her than anger and temper! I found it easier to get to know Rosalie than the men did, and for all her exasperating ways I found myself loving her anyway. When she wanted to be she could be charming, and even when she wasn’t she had a kind of magnetic force to her personality that drew us all to her even as she tried furiously to shove everyone away. She was stunningly beautiful and I found the same pleasure in looking at her as I did in contemplating art, and her laugh was irresistible.

Rosalie was surprisingly fun to be with, once she let go of herself. She was very intelligent and highly competitive, and we all enjoyed having someone new to play games with. I found it wonderful to have another female in the house after all that time too, and the two of us spent many hours in cheerful, happy conversation about such girlish interests as clothes and hair and jewellery. I was sometimes surprised to look up from her animated, happy face as we leafed through the latest mail order catalogue and realise that she had been with us only weeks when it felt as though she had been there so much longer.

Despite my hopes that they would settle down and become friends, Edward and Rosalie’s relationship retained the volatility that had characterised it at the start. They spent a lot of time together because their options for company were so limited, but it often ended in shouted arguments and frequently even threats of violence from Rosalie. I would never have said it to them but part of the reason they fought was their similarities…they both had an over inflated sense of self-importance and arrogant conviction that they were always right, as well as the usual over dramatic emotions of adolescence! In a lot of ways I thought they were good for each other, although the constant bickering became very tiresome very quickly.

Rosalie and Carlisle’s relationship remained wary. It hurt sometimes, to see how deeply Carlisle’s guilt still pained him and the way Rosalie consistently rebuffed any attempt at friendship from him. She laid the responsibility for every unhappiness she felt at his feet, and Carlisle bore the burden uncomplainingly, believing he deserved it for what he had done for her, unasked for and unwanted. It made it difficult to think of the four of us as a family, with that yawning chasm of distrust and resentment between the two of them, and this was a fact that made me deeply unhappy.

I didn’t know that things would get worse before they could get better. I didn’t know that just because Rosalie no longer spoke of vengeance against the men that had hurt didn’t mean that she didn’t think of it. I never dreamed of the full extent of the bitterness and fierce hatred that ran so deep beneath that angel face, or the brutal, violent fantasies that drove her.

I felt guilty about it for years, that I didn’t know. I thought that I should have known and should have tried to talk her out of it, tried to impart some of the peace I had come to in my vampire life about the violent relationship of my past. I wished that she had given me a chance to share the way I had come to let go of my own fear and anger. But she didn’t, and later I realised that it probably wouldn’t have made any difference. Rosalie’s single-minded intensity was nothing like me with my romantic dreams, and the two of us would probably never fully understand the other.

Carlisle and I were alone in the living room when I learned how far things had gone without my knowledge. I was sitting beside him on the sofa, holding a book but concentrating more on the feel of his thigh against mine and what I might like to do with him when he said abruptly, “She’s going to kill them.”

I knew who he meant, instantly. Rosalie had gone to kill the men who had attacked her, the men who had delivered her, bleeding and broken, into the arms of Carlisle who had brought her to the shadow world. For a moment I felt sick, but then I thought of the Rosalie I had come to know and love, and said softly, “Perhaps it will help her.”

Carlisle looked bleak. “I know they deserve it. But I have seen so much death and suffering…and I know that revenge will never return to Rosalie what she lost.”

 _Her life, her happiness, her innocence…_ “No, it won’t give her back what she lost. Nothing can do that. But maybe revenge will give Rosalie something new, and maybe that’s what she needs.” I sighed.

“You know her better than I do,” Carlisle said. “Perhaps you are right. I hope that whatever happens, she is safe.”

Rosalie seemed to be safe when she came home, close to dawn. She said nothing, but went to her room and closed the door behind her. Edward came home soon after and entered the living room, sitting down in an armchair and burying his face in his hands for a moment.

“It was quick,” he said tiredly. “He knew her, but she didn’t give him time to scream before she broke his neck. No one else saw either of us at all.”

Carlisle nodded, his face blank as he rose to his feet and left. I knew he wanted to be alone. I reached a hand out and touched Edward gently on the shoulder.

“Carlisle asked me to see her safe,” he told me quietly. “I promised I would. You know I don’t like her, but life has been monstrously cruel to her and I wouldn’t want to see her suffer more.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think she could do it…kill without feeding. But she did it, quick and cold and efficient. I didn’t know whether to be appalled or admiring.”

“Thank you for doing this,” I said sincerely. “I hate that it’s necessary, but she needs you…she needs all of us, and maybe after this she’ll let us in.”

My faith was shaken though, over the next three days. Everyone was strung as tight as a bow string with the tension in the house during the days, and every night when Rosalie disappeared on her brutal path of revenge with Edward following, Carlisle and I suffered under the oppressive silence of their absence.

Just when I thought I couldn’t bear anymore, the fifth night came and it ended. Rosalie came home, a vision of such terrible beauty in a blood spattered wedding gown that I knew I would never forget it, and stood facing Carlisle and I. Her eyes, still golden because despite her killing she had not fed, glittered with triumphant rage.

“It’s done,” she spat. “Tonight I killed Royce and now they’re all dead and I’m _glad_. I don’t care what happens to me now.”

I watched her leave the room with my heart aching, and then I began to hurt even more as I heard the soft, heartbroken groan from Carlisle.

“Esme…what have I done? What will become of her now?”

I wrapped fierce arms around him, wanting to wrap him up in all the love and protection my heart could muster. “It’s over,” I told him. “Whatever you did, or didn’t do…this chapter of our lives is over. We can’t change anything now, my dearest.” 

Silently Edward appeared in the room, his face agonised. “Esme’s right Carlisle…it’s over.” He shuddered. “Thank god!”

“Thank you for watching over her Edward,” I said. Despite what she had done, I still saw the hurt, terrified girl that lay underneath Rosalie’s exquisite exterior and I wished I could save her from herself.

 “I feel it’s only fair to warn you, since you’ll find out eventually…it was Royce King tonight, and it was not quick and it was not neat,” Edward said slowly. “He knew she was coming for him, and he’d locked himself away with two guards to protect him…for all the good it did! It just meant that two innocent men died tonight so that Rosalie could get to him. The animal deserved every torturous minute she put him through, but oh…” Edward shuddered, and I felt my own sense of sick horror at what Edward must have heard from the dying man’s mind.

Carlisle’s face was grief stricken. “I should never have done it,” he said brokenly. “I believed I was saving her Esme…but I have done nothing but exacerbate her pain. She now faces immortality as a creature she detests, and after tonight she will now bear the burden of having killed for eternity…”

“Oh my love, please don’t…” I didn’t want him to think like that! I knew he took responsibility for all the deaths that Edward and I had caused, as a creator he bore the blood on his hands of those he had made, but that was too heavy a burden for anyone to carry. Too heavy even for him, my golden archangel husband. “You _did_ save her. She would have died if it weren’t for you, and I can’t believe that she would rather be dead than having the chance to live as she is now.”

“I became a doctor to heal, to do good…not to play God!”

“Carlisle, you must stop this,” Edward urged. “How many times have you told me that we cannot change the past? That we must not dwell on what can’t be changed, but accept the lessons and strive to do better in the future? Agonising over what _could_ have been with Rosalie will get you nowhere!”

I kissed Carlisle’s golden hair and stroked his face, making him look at me with his deep, haunted eyes. “You must have faith. You have always believed that life is precious, and you gave Rosalie life. Like all of us, she must take the hand she’s been dealt and do the best she can with what she has…and I believe in her Carlisle.”

He looked at me, the same look of incredulous, wondering love that he had worn the day I first kissed him. The day I had killed, and he had forgiven me and helped lift my burden of regret. “What would I do without you?” he whispered. He smiled across at Edward too, including him in his words. “How did I live alone so long without my family?”

“You spent far too long in maudlin contemplation I expect!” I laughed gently before I continued more seriously. “Dearest, I know how you struggle with faith and belief…but I know your heart. Edward does too, and I believe that underneath it all Rosalie also sees you for what you truly are. You have a pure heart Carlisle Cullen, and when the time comes that you stand before God he will see you for what you have always striven to be.”

“I shouldn’t have turned Rosalie,” Carlisle said, softly but steadily. “I was made arrogant and careless by the success of you two…not only that I changed you successfully but that you both turned out to be just what I needed in my life and neither of you have hated or resented me for what I did to you without your consent. As for Rosalie…I cannot undo it, she is one of us now and I have dedicated myself to doing what I can for her, but I will not do it again. This life of immortality…it is not a gift I should give.”

“I think that’s wise,” Edward answered, and I couldn’t disagree with him.

“Be hopeful for Rosalie too,” I said with conviction. “I believe that she can come through this, stronger and better than before. She doesn’t always show us her best side, but there is a great deal of promise in the girl. I have said it before Carlisle, I want her to stay, I want to see her fulfil her potential…you have given her the chance to do that.”

___________________________

I couldn’t help but wonder though, over the next few weeks, if Rosalie was going to do anything at all, let alone live up to her potential. From the night she came home from her final slaying she stayed in her room, not talking or hunting or even moving at all.

My home, which had always been a sanctuary from the strain of fitting into a world that didn’t really have a place for us, became fraught with oppressive tension. Carlisle was almost crushed under the weight of guilt and responsibility he felt for Rosalie and barely spoke either, and certainly never smiled. Edward, struggling under the weight of the relentless, miserable thoughts pervading the house, became sullen and morose himself. All my attempts to cheer the three of them up fell completely flat, and I found myself almost in despair.

Finally, one night I couldn’t bear it anymore.

“That’s it!” I slammed the heavy book I was reading onto the table and shouted, my voice shockingly loud in the silent room. “I’ve had quite enough!”

Edward, who for once must have been unaware of my thoughts, jumped a mile, while Carlisle simply looked up with a distracted air. “My love?”

“I’m sorry Carlisle, but something must be done,” I declared. “I can’t live like this any longer! Rosalie up there, doing whatever it is she thinks she’s doing; you down here so riddled with guilt and doubt that you’re unable to move forward; Edward moping around under the weight of all those painful thoughts… _Something_ has to change.”

Carlisle looked even more wretched as he took in the fact that I was unhappy. “What do you suggest?”

Edward laughed as he took in my idea. “Do you think she’ll agree?”

I rolled my eyes and put my hands on my hips. “Frankly I don’t care if she does or not. There are three of us and one of her- newborn strength or not Rosalie will do what she’s told for once, even if it takes physical force to make her!” I absolutely meant what I said, although I had to admit I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. I smiled down at Carlisle, who was looking up at me, mystified. “We’re all going to take a trip, Carlisle. We need something new…new places, new people, new amusements. Rosalie needs something to take her mind off all she feels she has lost, and what better way to do that than to give her the world?”

As realisation dawned, Carlisle’s face began to lighten up with a smile. “Take her travelling…” he said wonderingly, “I think it’s a wonderful idea, my love.”

“I knew you’d like it,” I said exultantly. “I thought we should take her to Europe- I know she hasn’t been there before and it’s so full of wonderful places and beautiful things it will suit Rosalie down to the ground. And really, she’s worked so hard to master the thirst and she’d done so extraordinarily well! Her motives may not have been the best, but I think she could be rewarded for her effort.” I cupped his familiar, beloved face in my hands and kissed him. “I think we need to show her what is out there, what is possible for her future…she has so much potential, and there are so many wonderful experiences that could be waiting for her if she will only open herself up to them!”

_If only she will. Maybe she can learn to be happy, and allow herself to make the best of the life and family she has now. Maybe then she will find it in her heart to forgive Carlisle, and we can begin healing the fractures in our family that her arrival has wrought. Maybe it is possible that it could be so much better than this!_


	40. Secrets and Hope

“I think it’s a great idea,” Edward said sincerely. “I’m sure Rosalie will love going to Europe, and it ought to work to get her out of this mood…but Esme, _you_ can be the one to tell her she has to leave her room!”

I laughed, but I have to admit to a strong sense of trepidation as I ascended the stairs and knocked on Rosalie’s door. She didn’t answer, so I pushed opened the door and marched in, briskly going to the window and flinging open the curtains.

Rosalie was on the bed, curled into herself like a child, staring blankly at the wall in front of her. Without being invited I sat on the bed beside her, and gently touched her shoulder.

“Rosalie sweetheart, it’s time for you to get up,” I said.

She rolled her head to look at me and said flatly, “I don’t want to.”

“Rosalie…”

“I hate everything. I’m going to stay here until I die,” she said, with just enough dramatic flair that I knew things weren’t hopeless and that there was still enough sass somewhere in Rosalie to bring her through this.

I hid my smile and said mildly, “You can’t die. Immortality, remember?”

Rosalie groaned. “I really can’t do _anything_ , can I?”

“If there’s a way for a vampire to kill themselves Carlisle wasn’t able to discover it,” I said. “He tried, when he first awoke and realised what he’d become. He was horrified, and so determined not to take anyone’s life that he tried to destroy himself. But nothing worked. Then one night he was so maddened with hunger when he stumbled into a herd of deer that he fed without thinking, and discovered that animal blood is a sufficient, if not fully satisfying, diet. Once he knew it was possible he dedicated himself to controlling his thirst and living a useful and productive life.”

“Well, isn’t he just so flipping perfect,” Rosalie scowled.

I couldn’t help laughing. “Oh sweetie, he’s not perfect. He’s just a man who does his very best to live up to his ideals. But he accepts that not everyone lives or believes as he does, and he doesn’t judge others for following their own paths.”

“I feel like everyone is judging me,” Rosalie said, and her defiant façade slipped to show the vulnerable girl underneath. “Edward is always looking at me with that scornful face, like nothing I do is good enough and he’s so much better than me. Ever since I…did what I did, Carlisle won’t even look at me at all.”

“Carlisle is trying to give you space,” I said gently. “He would like to be your friend, but he knows that it will take time for you to learn to trust us. We know that you’ve had many new and difficult things forced upon you since he changed you…he just wants to give you the time and emotional space to come to terms with it. But he would like very much for you to forgive him. He cares for you and he would love to see you happy. He is very proud of the control you’ve achieved over yourself in this short time and I know how impressed he is with your intelligence and determination. He didn’t exactly like it, but he understood your need for vengeance and he wouldn’t dream of censuring your for it now that it’s all over.”

Rosalie looked unconvinced, and for I moment I played with the Cullen bracelet I had around my wrist before I said quietly, “I’ve never told you this, but in my time as a vampire I’ve killed people.”

Rosalie went very still. “You did? You…fed?”

“Yes.” There was a long silence. “Several times. With all the best intentions in the world, I wasn’t able to resist.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I think you should know. I think you should understand the true scale of your achievement in being able to resist blood the way you have. I didn’t even come close to you, Rosalie. You should be proud of yourself for that, because all the rest of us are proud of you.”

“Not Edward. He hates me.” Rosalie sounded surprisingly forlorn.

“Even Edward,” I assured her. “He knows how hard it is and he understands that fight. I know the two of you don’t always get along, but he does admire your strength of will.” I hesitated. “I think it’s also only fair that you should also know that Edward, although he didn’t lose himself to the temptation like I did, has killed people too. He lived apart from Carlisle and I for a few years, and he killed people whose minds held thoughts of terrible deeds. So he understands your recent actions more than you know. His was a kind of vigilante justice, but still, it was killing.”

“Like me,” Rosalie said bleakly.

I dared to reach and stroke the blonde hair scattered across the pillow, and for once Rosalie didn’t pull away. “A little like you, yes, although Edward did feed on them.”

“I couldn’t. I wanted the blood, but the thought of having anything of them in me again was so awful…I just wanted them to die. I wanted Royce to suffer, like he made me suffer.” Rosalie looked at me with wide, hurt eyes. “I still don’t understand why he did that, why it was all so violent and horrible and how he could have just left me to die. We were going to get married! It was only a little while and he would have been able to do…that part of it, but not…I don’t know!” Rosalie buried her face in the pillow in an agony of embarrassment and hurt.

I continued to run my hands through her silky soft hair, wishing I could untangle the knots of her complicated feelings as easily. “It would never have been a fairy tale marriage Rosalie,” I told her softly. “What he did to you- that wasn’t about sex. It was all about power and control, and if you had married him that violent part of him wouldn’t have gone away. It still would have been there and it would have come out in all kinds of terrible ways.”

Rosalie shook her head in denial. “I keep thinking that if only I’d done something differently…why did he think he could do that to me?!”

“It wasn’t anything you did, or didn’t do. Truly Rosalie, a man like that…what he did says volumes about him, but nothing about you. You were an innocent caught up in something dark and nasty, and all you can do now that it’s over is really let it go,” I said simply. “It might be the hardest thing for you to do, but the kindest thing you can do for yourself is let those terrible memories fade and look to the future.”

“I’ll never forget it,” Rosalie said flatly. “I’ll never forget any part of it. He betrayed me, and hurt me, and what he did led to me becoming _this_ …I’ll never forget that and stop hating it.”

“I was married in my human life,” I said slowly. “He was older than me, more experienced…I wasn’t in love with him, but my parents wanted me to marry and he seemed like a nice, safe choice. I thought I could try to be happy with him.”

Rosalie sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees as she looked at me. “What happened? Were you happy?”

“No.” I touched my bracelet again, seeking comfort from the Cullen crest that adorned it, the symbol of my true family. “He was violent. He hit me, often, for making ordinary mistakes or just because he was angry and wanted to hurt someone, and I was smaller and weaker and more defenceless than he was. It was awful, and there was no one to help me. I didn’t love him to begin with, and by the time I found my courage to run away from him I hated him.” I slid further back onto the bed, leaning back against Rosalie’s pillows. “So you see, I do understand, a little bit at least, what it’s been like for you.”

“He hurt me before.” Rosalie’s voice was nearly inaudible. “I never told anyone.”

“I’m glad you got away from him,” I said sincerely. “Even if it was like _this_ , at least you have a chance for something else. Perhaps a chance for someone else.”

“No.” Rosalie barely let me finish speaking. “No one else…not ever. I won’t do that.”

“Never is a long time, and you don’t know what might happen.”

“You think I’d ever let a man touch me like that again?” Rosalie’s eyes were cold. “Because I never will. I don’t want to…and it can’t make a baby in any case, can it? Not when I’m like this. So what’s the point?”

 _What’s the point?_ I thought of the hours in Carlisle’s arms, of the endless pleasure of loving him like that, of the way it felt to be bare and vulnerable and together in love. I thought of the depth and richness of our relationship and the way it encompassed all- the romantic and the spiritual and the physical. But I knew I could never explain that to Rosalie, and I felt angry all over again at what had been taken from her that terrible night her human life ended.

But then I looked at her face, and her fingernails digging into her clenched fists, and I knew that this wasn’t just about sex. _It can’t make a baby in any case…_ The one thing that Carlisle and Edward would never quite understand, that instinctive drive that some women have for babies and motherhood, one thing that this life would never, _could_ never provide…oh, Rosalie understood. It was thoroughly, heartbreakingly, clear that Rosalie understood.

“No, we can’t make babies.” I was surprised by the depth of sadness in my voice. I thought I had long ago made peace with the idea that there would never be another baby for me, that Carlisle and I would never know the joy of creating and parenting our own child, and that I would always have to make do expending my maternal feelings on Edward, and now maybe Rosalie, if she’d let me. In the end I suppose it was something that was always going to sting a little, one tiny little regret to mar my happiness and remind me to appreciate what I _did_ have. “I’ll never have more than that one, lovely day of being a mother to my newborn.”

“At least you had one, once,” Rosalie said drearily. “I never did. I was right on the cusp of getting everything I wanted, and I lost it all.”

“And now it’s time for you to find something new that you want,” I said to her. “I didn’t tell you about my husband just to make you feel sorry for me. I shared my story about my human husband and my sweet baby, and the mistakes I made as a vampire, because I thought there are lessons in there for you if you want to learn them. Our stories have similarities Rosalie, and I think we can learn from each other and help each other.”

“You don’t need any help,” Rosalie muttered. “You’re so perfectly calm and happy and…and _nice._ ”

She sounded scathing, and I didn’t bother to even attempt to hold back my laughter. “Oh, thank you for that! Do you know how _hard_ I have to try sometimes to appear calm and happy and _nice?_ ”

Rosalie shrugged, but then I caught of flash of white teeth and bright eyes and saw that she was smiling.

“I _definitely_ didn’t tell you about my past to make you think I was perfect,” I giggled. “I just wanted you know that Carlisle doesn’t hold mistakes against anyone, and that it _is_ possible to come back from violence and unhappiness. It’s always possible to turn your life around, if you want to strongly enough. Yes, you’re a vampire now and that means certain things are irrevocably closed to you. But there are advantages to being a vampire too, like the fact that you’re eternally young and beautiful, as well as being strong and fast and powerful. Then there are your own personal advantages Rosalie- you’re incredibly bright, fiercely determined, and breathtakingly beautiful, all of which is a very powerful combination. You’re going to grow into a very formidable vampire woman, and perhaps that’s not what you would have chosen, but it _is_ what you have to work with now. So it’s up to you to decide what to do with that.”

“I just don’t _know_ what to do,” Rosalie confessed miserably. “I always wanted to be pretty and popular and have lots of friends and have all the boys crazy about me…and I _had_ that! I know Edward thinks it so stupid, and me stupid for wanting it, but I don’t care. That’s what all my friends wanted. The other things- like getting married and being a good hostess and making a splash socially – all of that was on the way. And then there would have been babies…” Her words cut out.

“I’m not saying it’s going to be easy,” I said softly. “You’ve spent eighteen years dreaming of those things and now you’re being forced to change. That’s difficult. But it can be done, and you have a lot going for you and a lot of time in which to find something new to focus on. They say time is a great healer, and I believe that…especially for us, where time has such a different meaning as it does for the humans.”

Rosalie nodded and I gave her a wide grin as I said, “But now, I didn’t actually come in here to talk so deeply! I came in here to tell you that you have to get out of bed and pack your bags, because we’re going away.”

“Going away?” Rosalie looked shocked. “Where? How?”

“Europe,” I told her confidently, adding a little more gently. “I think you need some new places and new things to distract you. Staying in Rochester is like keeping you in a prison, and a prison that’s haunted with bad memories at that. I think it will be easier for you to accept who and what you’ve become if we go somewhere without memories attached.”

Rosalie nodded slowly. “I think I would like that,” she said in a low voice. “I think I would like travelling very much.” She looked across at her closet, and I saw the tiny spark in her eye as she turned to me and said, in a much brighter tone of voice, “Of course, we’ll have to do some shopping once we’re there…I really don’t have a complete wardrobe for this kind of trip. And Parisian fashion was surely made for me.”


	41. Paying a Debt (1935)

I finished weaving in the end of the yarn and then bit it off with my teeth. Another sweater done, and I folded it gently and added it to the cardboard box. “You can take this lot to the hospital charitable assistance program,” I said to Carlisle. “I haven’t donated there for some time…this is probably a reasonable amount of sweaters for a single person to have knitted in that time, do you think?”

The poverty that surrounded us in rural Tennessee had horrified me when we moved to the state. I had begun knitting at vampire speed in an effort to produce as many warm sweaters and socks and mittens as I could, although this meant that I had to spread my donations far and wide in order not to attract attention and have people wonder at how frequently I donated.

 “I’ll take them in next time I work,” Carlisle said, looking up from the medical journal he was reading. He glanced across at the window and the darkness outside. “Rosalie’s been gone a long time,” he commented with a faint frown.

“She went hunting,” Edward said, from behind the elaborate, invented, five-deck card game he was playing. “I think she wanted some time alone.”

A familiar sense of unease twisted in my stomach as I thought of Rosalie. In the two years since her vampire birth and our return from Europe she had, to all outward appearances, settled down with us. She hunted without fuss or fanfare, she was reading history at a small, nearby college, she spent time on her hobbies and appeared to enjoy them, she helped me with the house and loved talking about clothes and hairstyles and the girlish pursuits that mattered to her. She did, it had to be said, snap and snarl with temper and fight endlessly with Edward, but the two of them had also come to regard each other as siblings and friends. She was perfectly friendly and polite to Carlisle and by wearing her Cullen pendant regularly she demonstrated quite clearly that she thought of us as her family.

At the same time, there was something deep within her that had never healed from her violent vampire birth. Something broken, an endless well of pain, that occasionally showed itself in her restlessness and a half hidden look of desperate hopelessness. It worried me deeply, that this girl that I’d come to love could be so unhappy, and yet I had no means to see it made right. It hurt that there was a deep and strong sense of dissatisfaction in our previously harmonious family life.

 “Was she okay?” I asked Edward. “I think I upset her a little yesterday…”

Edward shrugged. “It’s Rosalie. What’s okay for her? But she was…FREAKING HELL!”

I nearly fell off my chair in shock and Carlisle dropped the medical journal with a bang onto the table as Edward suddenly shouted and lurched to his feet, scattering his cards.

“What?!” I exclaimed. Edward never used language like that, let alone bellowed it at the top of his lungs.

“It’s Rosalie.” Edward swept the cards together, his movements a blur of speed. “She’s coming home, she’s got a man with her, a human, he’s bleeding, she wants Carlisle’s help…”

I clapped my hands across my mouth in horror. Rosalie had slipped? Her iron control had faltered?

“She didn’t touch him,” Edward gasped. “He was attacked by a bear…oh my god, Carlisle…what is she _doing_?”

Edward had the table bare before Rosalie appeared at the door, dwarfed by the size of the man she had cradled in her arms like some enormous baby. His head lolled back, and his face was white, his lips blue and slack.

Without a word Edward and Carlisle pushed the table beneath the lamp, and Rosalie tenderly laid her burden across it. “Carlisle,” she whispered, “Please…”

I had never heard her sound like that. In fact looking at Rosalie, wearing only her skirt and camisole, her shirt wrapped around the man in a futile effort to bandage the horrific wounds that the bear had torn across his torso, I thought I had never seen her look so wild and desperate, so close to shattering.

I had to back away. The scent of the blood that soaked his clothes, that soaked Rosalie, was too much. Too strong, too tempting…

“Stand here with me,” Edward murmured, moving to the far wall and gripping my hand tightly as the two of us watched Carlisle at work, rapidly assessing the man with skilled professionalism. “Don’t breathe.”

“Rosalie, there’s nothing I can do,” Carlisle said, raising his hands in supplication.

Rosalie wanted none of it. _“Fix him!”_ she screamed, her face twisted with fear and rage. “He _can’t_ die! You’re a doctor…just _heal him!”_

“There are no real thoughts,” Edward said quietly, frowning in concentration. “Just images…Rosalie, he’s going.”

 His face taut with sympathy and concern, Carlisle reached out a hand to Rosalie. “I’m sorry Rosalie, but these injuries are so severe…I don’t have the ability to fix this.”

“NO!” Rosalie crawled onto the table and gently lifted the man’s head and shoulders into her arms, stroking his face and staring down at him with a gaze so full of wonder that I almost felt my stone vampire heart skip a beat.

_I’ve never seen her…oh Rosalie, what has happened to you? Who is this man?_

And then she flung her head back and glared at Carlisle, her eyes narrowed and glittering with passion as she screamed at him. “If you can’t heal him, then you _change him! I want him! Make him one of us…CHANGE HIM!”_

The words shocked us all into silence. _Change him…_ Something none of us, ever, had asked for. Edward squeezed my hand convulsively, and I froze as I saw the look on Carlisle’s face. I knew how deep his guilt went over Rosalie, and I knew that he had always said he would do anything, _anything_ , to make it up to her.

But this…

Rosalie didn’t take her eyes off Carlisle, and for the first time ever I thought she was something less than beautiful as she hissed, “You did this to me. You made me what I am and I hate you for it! You took _everything_ I cared about from me and now _you owe me, Carlisle._ And I’m going to collect, right here, tonight, because _I want this man. He’s mine! You give him to me, NOW, or I will never, ever forgive you. CHANGE HIM!”_  Her voice rose to a scream.

In that moment, I hated her. I hated her for her selfishness, for using Carlisle’s sense of guilt and responsibility against him, for bringing this broken man home and tormenting us with her unhappiness. And as Carlisle groaned in hopeless despair and bent over the body on the table I hated her because she was forcing him to give the dark gift he had sworn never to use again. He would break his vows and he would suffer for it, all because it was Rosalie who demanded it.

Carlisle bit him, again and again, and the scent of the venom began to overlay the scent of the blood. I felt my thirst ebb, and I cautiously stepped closed to see this human that Rosalie had demanded be saved.

He was big. Sprawled across the table, his arms and legs off the edges and his clothes in shreds, he was all muscle and I couldn’t help my quick sideways at Edward. How were we to control him when he woke? The clothes that Carlisle tore off and tossed aside were old and threadbare under the blood and the man’s boots were worn and cracked, one tied with a knotted shoelace and the other with twine. His skin, what we could see of it beneath the blood and the vast, gaping wounds, was tanned and scarred and far from clean.

Yet Rosalie, prim, fastidious Rosalie, held him to her possessively and stared at him like she had just been given sight after a lifetime of blindness. She combed her fingers through the roughly chopped, dark curly hair and her perfect pink pout hovered inches above as his face as she whispered to him.

Carlisle reeled back from the table, his face bearded with blood and his eyes fathomless as he stared at Rosalie. “It’s done,” he said flatly, and I sped to get him a damp towel to wipe his face. “May God forgive me, but I’ve turned him.”

Without another word he left the room. I caught up to him on the porch, where he suddenly leaned over the railing and retched. I had never seen him do it, and I shuddered as he spat blood from his mouth and then looked at me with eyes that were dark with sorrow.

“Esme…”

With a tiny cry of distress I moved towards him and wrapped my arms around him, heedless of the blood. “Carlisle, oh please…”

“I turned him,” he whispered. “So help me, I did what I swore I would never do again and I’ve made another, doomed another to this shadow world…”

I pulled his head down and kissed him. “Please don’t do this, don’t tear yourself apart…what choice did you have?”

Carlisle shook his head. “We don’t even know anything about him. I don’t know where he came from or where she found him…we don’t even know his name!”

“We’ll find all that out,” I said, gently taking his hand and leading him inside and towards the stairs. From the living room we heard the man scream, deep and agonized and chilling, and for a moment Carlisle pulled against my hand, his face haunted.

“I should go and sit with him. Help Rosalie…”

“Not now.” I said firmly. “Rosalie wanted this, she can take care of it for now. You’re coming with me.”

He didn’t resist after that and I guided him upstairs and into our bedroom. He stood quietly while I removed his blood stained clothing and then sat on the bed while I took a damp face washer and tenderly wiped his face and neck and ears, anywhere that the blood from the injured man had splashed.

“I didn’t realise she still harboured such resentment,” Carlisle said wearily. “I thought she had accepted this and was happy with her life now.”

“Rosalie is happy enough,” I said carefully. “This man…I have no idea what she was thinking.”

Carlisle looked at me with a half smile. “She wanted him. Sometimes it’s like that…there’s a person in front of you and right or wrong, whether it makes sense or it doesn’t, you feel a connection to them.”

“Oh? And what would you know about that?” I teased.

“Once I met a girl,” Carlisle said softly, and his hand caressed my leg. “A human girl, a funny little girl with a broken leg and a beautiful smile, and all I wanted to do was talk to her. But even though there was a connection there, I had to let her go. She was too young, and too innocent for the darkness I would have brought her.”

“But she came back,” I whispered, my breath hitching as his hands travelled higher on my legs, under my dress and began stroking the lace of my panties. “She found you again, and that time was the right time.”

“A very, very right time,” Carlisle murmured, and somehow the mystery man downstairs seems very far away as I lowered myself onto his lap and squirmed deliciously against his hands. “Because she was definitely not a little girl anymore.”

My dress and underclothes slid off under his hands and I inhaled deeply as I lay back on the bed, skin to skin with Carlisle. “And it turns out that it wasn’t dark for her at all…not when there was you,” I breathed, wrapping my legs around him and taking him into me, surrendering to the beautiful pleasure of being with him.

“I love you,” Carlisle said simply, sometime later as we both finally lay still and sated. One arm was wrapped around me, holding me close, while the other stroked the length of my back.

“As much as I love you?” I asked with a smile.

“More,” he said sincerely, kissing me with a gentle laugh.

From below, the screaming began again, accompanied by the thud of limbs hitting the table. I winced, picturing the way Rosalie had thrashed in the agony of her transformation, and felt Carlisle go tense under my touch.

“Three days,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Three days and then he’ll wake and we’ll learn what we have here.”

“It will be interesting,” I said slowly, tracing the lines of muscle on Carlisle’s belly as silence fell downstairs. “Especially with Rosalie…”

“He’s good looking,” Carlisle mused. “I can see why Rosalie was attracted, in that sense. But he’s also…well, he’s not quite…”

“A gentleman?” I suggested lightly.

Carlisle grinned, a little embarrassed. “You know it doesn’t matter to me. But looking at his clothes and his boots, and his teeth weren’t good…this isn’t a man that comes from any money or social position. He’s well built enough that I don’t think he was living in abject poverty and starving, but there’s not an ounce of fat on him. It’s fairly clear that he’s some kind of manual labourer.”

“And you can’t help but wonder how Princess Rosalie is going to react when he wakes up and talks to her?” I said with a giggle. I loved Rosalie, but I couldn’t deny that she could be a terrible snob.

Carlisle ducked his head and kissed my neck, as the silence from below was broken by an anguished howl. “Something like that.”

“What will be, will be,” I said philosophically. “You’re right, he _is_ quite lovely to look at –not as lovely as you, of course!- and there was something there that made Rosalie pick him up and bring him home. How she did it without snapping and feeding on him I have NO idea! But the world works in mysterious ways sometimes, and perhaps it will all turn out for the best.”


	42. Emmett

“Is this what it’s always like?” Rosalie said, looking up imploringly.

On the table in front of her the man’s back arched as his muscles contracted and his head thudded repeatedly against the heavy wood. His large hands tore at his own flesh as he screamed, and I watched Rosalie clasp them in her own much smaller hands, holding them tight against her and gazing at him in horror. “Oh no, don’t do that, please don’t…”

Carlisle stepped closer and looked the man over carefully, touching him lightly and listening to his heartbeat with a cocked head. “Essentially it’s always like this,” he murmured. “You would remember what it feels like. People react differently, of course…he moves a great deal more than you or Edward or Esme did, although that will slow soon, and then stop as the venom works.” Carlisle stepped back and considered him. “You haven’t told us where you found him. Do you know anything about him?”

“I don’t know where I found him,” Rosalie said wretchedly. “I ran a long way, and it wasn’t somewhere I’ve ever been before. I smelled the blood and followed the scent to find him with the bear, and he was already in this state. He had a bag with him, but I didn’t think to look for anything that might identify him. I knew he didn’t have much time, and I just wanted to bring him here to you…” Her voice trailed off.

“He’ll be able to tell us when he wakes up,” Carlisle said reassuringly. “If you would like to take a break someone else will sit with him. You don’t have to do this alone Rosalie.”

“No.” Rosalie barely let Carlisle finish speaking. “Thank you, but…no. I’ll stay.”

And right by his side she stayed. For three days the usually self-absorbed Rosalie looked at and thought of nothing but the man who was transforming in front of her. She didn’t know how often I stood in the doorway and watched her, astounded at the tenderness of her as she held him while he screamed and gathered him in her arms and kissed his closed eyes and held him together when he sobbed and begged to die. She talked to him endlessly, just in case he could hear her voice, and when I heard the guilt and grief as she apologised again and again, I thought that perhaps Rosalie might, finally, begin to understand Carlisle’s actions in reflection to her own.

We knew when he would rise. He lay on the table, glorious stone immortal, only the pounding, thudding beat of his heart giving away that there was still a shred of humanity in him.

“Things are looking good.” Carlisle said approvingly, looking down. “His heart, Rosalie?”

“Very fast. Erratic,” Rosalie answered anxiously.

“He’ll wake up soon,” Carlisle said. “We need to wash off all that blood.” Rosalie had not wanted any of us near enough to clean him during his change, as Carlisle had done for all of us.

“I’ll do it,” she said, laying a possessive arm across his chest.

Carlisle shook his head with a gentle smile. “No Rosalie, you need to go and clean yourself up. You’ve been with him for three days, and you can’t be near him in those clothes when he wakes up.”

Rosalie glanced down and seemed almost surprised to see that she was still wearing the bloodstained skirt and camisole that she had worn the day she had found him. Her shirt, which she had so ineffectually used to hold his wounds together, had long since been thrown away with his torn rags. “Oh,” she said distractedly. “I hadn’t realised.” Reluctantly, with several backwards glances as she hovered hesitantly in the doorway, Rosalie disappeared towards the bathroom.

I brought in a bucket of cold water and began briskly sponging him clean. Edward, obviously feeling a little awkward about the situation, stood by watching.

“Edward? Can you hear anything?” Carlisle asked.

“It’ll be soon. He keeps thinking about Rosalie.”

Carlisle removed the man’s underclothes, which had been left on in a vague attempt at modesty, and I did my best to look unconcerned and mature as I continued cleaning him off. Of course it all failed since apparently I was most emphatically _not_ mature and couldn’t stop my amused thoughts that Rosalie might have some fun at some point in the future…

“Oh _Esme!”_ Edward was disgusted. “Honestly, I’d expect better from you!”

Carlisle raised an eyebrow at me and I dissolved into helpless giggles, which really didn’t help the situation. Edward frowned at me in deep disapproval and handed Carlisle a pair of trousers, the largest pair we’d been able to find in the house although they still didn’t come close to fitting the man in front of us.

I threw the dirty water away and was heading back to the living room when I heard the silence of a frozen heart. A new vampire.

I stopped in the doorway. He was on his feet, unable to stand still, his head weaving from side as he raked his hands through his hair looking dazed. 

“What is this? Where is she? What is this place? What…who… _where is she?_ ” The accent was pure country Tennessee.

“My name is Carlisle Cullen. You’re here in my house, you’re quite safe. This is my son, Edward, and my wife, Esme.” Carlisle said calmly. “Can you tell us your name?”

“Is she here?” The man’s bright red eyes swept the room again and then he tried to look past me. “Is she here? She was here…where did she go?”

Edward sounded a little impatient as he said, “He wants Rosalie.”

I heard her behind me, but I didn’t turn to look. Instead I watched the man as his red eyes settled on her, and all the agitation seemed to drain from his body as he smiled.

 _Oh!_ He had dimples that I could have put my fingers in, and he was looking at Rosalie as though she was nothing less than a goddess walking the earth. He moved towards her and Carlisle and Edward immediately stepped protectively in between the two of them, their hands raised. As if it were necessary! Already I knew that this man would never do anything that might hurt Rosalie.

Rosalie knew it too, and her voice was steady as she stepped past me and said, “He’s not going to hurt me. You won’t, will you?”

“No,” he breathed, not taking his eyes from her.

“What’s your name?”

He swallowed hard, quivering with suppressed energy. “Emmett McCarty, Miss.”

Rosalie took another step closer, ignoring Carlisle and Edward. “I’m Rosalie. You need to know some things,” she said gently. “Carlisle can tell you, but you have to listen…can you do that?”

Emmett nodded, but his eyes never left Rosalie and Carlisle flashed me a quick smile as he moved up beside her.

“Emmett? What do you remember about coming here? Do you remember Rosalie finding you in the forest?”

Emmett blinked and frowned, then paused for a moment as he watched his own fingers flex, his new vampire skin glimmering in the light. “There was a bear,” he said slowly. “I was hurt pretty bad, and then she…Rosalie…she was there and she saved me.”

I saw the flicker of shock that crossed Rosalie’s face at the sound of his slow, drawling accent. But her manners stood her in good stead as she settled her face back into serenity and watched as Emmett’s eyes flicked between her and Carlisle.

“In a manner of speaking, yes, she saved you,” Carlisle said carefully. “I’m a doctor, Emmett. Rosalie brought you back here to me, hoping I could heal you. But your injuries were too extensive.”

Emmett’s lip curled and he shook his head dismissively. Beside me Edward chuckled lightly. “Just spit it out Carlisle,” he said. “He doesn’t need you to be gentle.”

Carlisle raised his eyebrows and said seriously, “I couldn’t heal you, but I could change you. We’re vampires Emmett, and over the past three days of burning, that’s what you’ve become. A vampire.”

Emmett stepped back, looking confused. Edward, who was now looking quite relaxed, suddenly laughed and said, “You’re not in the asylum. What Carlisle is saying is true. Your body has healed itself, and you’re unbreakable now- look at yourself! You can feel the evidence of your senses.”

Baffled, Emmett looked down at his own body, and I watched the sense of dawning shock as he noted how he had changed, the way his body felt as he clenched his fists and released them, rocking his weight from side to side and then rising up on his toes, falling back flat footed to stare at his open palms. He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, groaning in frustrated bewilderment.

“You’re probably very thirsty,” Carlisle said sympathetically. “We can go out and take care of that, but I have to tell you that my family do not feed from humans. We only drink animal blood.”

“Whatever.” With eyes only for Rosalie and a face that expressed nothing but a kind of half frightened confusion, I don’t think Emmett even knew what he was agreeing to.

Edward laughed again, and his voice was bright with amusement. “Never mind, it probably wouldn’t help you much,” he said to Emmett, in obvious response to something from his head.

Emmett growled, and the tension in the room skyrocketed as we were confronted with the fact that we were dealing with a very unpredictable, potentially very dangerous, newborn.

“I’m sorry!” Edward said hastily. “It’s just…I’m a telepath. I can hear your thoughts. We’re not the vampires of fiction that you might know about. Living off animal blood for one, and you won’t burn up in the sunlight, or if you go into a church, or if you touch a cross or silver or garlic.”

I wanted to giggle. Emmett must have been imagining all the popular vampire myths and stories of the day. He looked doubtfully at Edward and said hesitantly, “No coffins?”

Edward grinned at him. “No coffins. We don’t sleep. And no one can stake you to death.”

Emmett raked his hands through his hair again, shaking his head and looking unhappy. “Fucking hell…oh, sorry ma’am.” Abashed, he looked at me standing in the doorway. “Excuse my mouth.”

He looked so sweetly apologetic, I couldn’t possibly have been angry even if I had found his language offensive. “It’s quite all right Emmett. I understand how overwhelming things must all seem right now.” I gave him a gentle smile.

Emmett’s movements were becoming more erratic, and I suspected his thirst was rapidly becoming unbearable. His muscles flexed beneath his skin and he swallowed repeatedly as his attention seemed to jump from one thing to another. “Can I…I’m really thirsty.”

“Right,” Carlisle moved in front of Emmett and waited until he had his attention before he said, “I’m sorry about the clothes Emmett- we didn’t have anything to fit you. Those trousers were the best we could do. Esme and Rosalie will go into town and buy something now, and Edward and I will take you out hunting.”

Emmett’s face fell as he looked at Rosalie. “You’re not coming with me?” he said dolefully.

Rosalie’s composure broke, and I saw the brief look of revulsion and terror that flickered across her face. “No…Esme and I will go shopping.”

I looked at her sharply. What was going on? She had spent three days with her arms wrapped around this man, refusing to let any of us do anything for him that she could do herself, and now she didn’t even want to be near him? But Rosalie was looking at me imploringly, and I just smiled comfortingly, “Come on sweetheart, let’s leave the boys to it.”

Something was clearly bothering Rosalie. Without another word, or even look, at Emmett she bolted from the room, leaving him gazing forlornly after her. I bit my lip and then simply shrugged at Carlisle before I went and joined Rosalie in the car.

“I think that went very well!” I said brightly, as Rosalie drove us in to town. “He seemed to accept things quite calmly.” _Certainly more so than you did!_ I thought, although I certainly didn’t say it.

Rosalie, her eyes focussed on the road and her hands gripping the wheel, made a non-committal noise.

“He’s very handsome,” I rambled. “Although he’s very…big.” I risked a quick, sideways glance, and caught the almost convulsive shudder that rippled through Rosalie’s body, although she said nothing. The tension was radiating off her, and I felt a sudden surge of pity. Rosalie, always so tightly controlled and intense about everything, seemed to have been completely knocked off her feet by the very existence of Emmett and was clearly struggling. “Rosalie…” I began.

“We’re nearly at the store,” Rosalie cut me off without a glance. “Did you write down his measurements?”

“Yes, I did,” I said with a sigh, accepting that Rosalie wasn’t going to open up to me then. “We’ll need a complete wardrobe for him, even his boots weren’t worth saving. I do wonder what sort of life he has left behind. I would judge that he’s a little older than you and Edward.”

I was secretly amused when I began putting together a wardrobe for Emmett and was immediately interrupted by Rosalie, who vetoed my initial colour choice and pointed to the blue instead. I knew that nothing infuriated Rosalie like having people laugh at her did though, so I merely nodded and agreed with her, letting her take the lead as we piled up trousers, shirts, jackets, vest, socks, belts and boots. The underclothes threw Rosalie, who had always flatly refused to do any of the men’s laundry at home, and I stepped in there and guided her choices.

Last of all, Rosalie stood in front of the hats, staring at the choices arrayed on stands. “I don’t know,” she whispered to me, and suddenly all her self-assurance disappeared and she looked around her with hunted eyes. “I don’t know!”

I knew it was about more than the hats, because the truth was what _did_ she know about this man that she’d demanded be made one of us? I could tell that the enormity of what she didn’t know was suddenly overwhelming Rosalie, and she was terrified.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said steadily, taking her arm and leading her back to the counter and away from the hats. “We don’t have to buy a hat now. He won’t…well, I don’t imagine he’ll be needing one in the near future. We’ll come back another day.” Certainly a newborn would not need to don a hat to go strolling through the town any time soon!

Rosalie was silent on the drive home, pushing the car to its limit in her hurry. Even at home she said nothing as she helped carry the packages into the living room and dropped them on the sofa, and then with a mumbled excuse she went upstairs. I frowned after her and then fetched bleach to clean off the table…we had to get rid of the scent of blood. Emmett was hunting and would be full when he returned, but even the scent of his own human blood might be too much for him.

I strained my ears to hear them out in the forest, but there was nothing but the usual sounds of birds and insects. _Come home safe_ , I thought, suddenly uneasy at the idea of Carlisle and Edward away with the powerful, newborn Emmett. _Let’s hope he is what he appears to be._


	43. Nothing Going On

I wouldn’t have said so, but I was relieved to see the three men appear in the yard again. They must have been to the river because Emmett’s hair glistened with water and his clothes – or what was left of his clothes – were drenched. But he was smiling, and my heart lifted to see his apparent cheerfulness. After the furious hysteria of Rosalie’s newborn days I had been half braced for Emmett to feel similarly, but at least for the moment he seemed to be accepting things easily.

“Did you buy some clothes?” Carlisle asked as they trooped into the living room. “As you can see, what he had didn’t survive the hunt.”

I could see that. Emmett stood before me, rather endearingly awkward as he held his hands crossed over his groin and nodded anxiously as I showed him the shopping. He seemed a little overwhelmed, and then he forgot himself as he took the clothes and his split pants gave me quite the view as he lifted his hands.

He looked absolutely mortified and began apologising profusely as he crossed his legs and I covered my mouth to hide my grin and said, as reassuringly as I could, “Oh Emmett, I’m not laughing at you! It’s just that you look so horrified! I’m a married woman and it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, so don’t fret. Now, go upstairs with Edward and get dressed. I’m afraid we don’t have a spare bedroom at the moment, but I’m sure Edward will be happy to have you in his space until we sort that out.”

Edward led Edward from the room and I heard him giving him a brief tour of the house as they went upstairs. Carlisle came and hugged me, breathing in the scent of my hair and curling his fingers around the nape of my neck. “Hello, sweetness,” he murmured.

I raised my face to him, kissing him and tasting the blood he would have drunk on his hunt with Emmett. Deer. “Hello.”

We heard Rosalie leaving the study, and Carlisle gave a self-deprecating shrug and pulled me back to sit close beside him on the sofa. Rosalie, looking as calm and self-possessed as ever, walked in carrying a catalogue, and settled down by the fire.

Carlisle smiled at her affectionately. “Hello Rosalie. You’ve brought us something rather special with Emmett, I think.”

Rosalie tossed her head and didn’t look at us. “He’s got nothing to do with me.”

_I don’t think so, young lady! You bought him here and demanded Carlisle change him…he has EVERYTHING to do with you!_

I didn’t say any of that aloud though, and a moment later Carlisle said thoughtfully, “He’s rather charming actually. Very natural and straightforward. I like him. He’s from Tennessee, the oldest son at home of a big family. From what he said he hasn’t been in regular employment, but he helps out at home by hunting and trapping.” Carlisle frowned in concern. “We must do something for his family Esme, regardless of what Emmett chooses to do from here. Reading between the lines the family lives in poverty, and the loss of a grown son will hit them hard.”

“Oh, of course,” I said sympathetically. “There are so many in need these days! We shall do what we can. Did Emmett say anything that might indicate his plans from now on?”

Carlisle shook his head. “No, we didn’t discuss it. I’m sure he’ll have a lot of questions first, so we’ll have to wait and see. He seems remarkably accepting of this change though! But the hunting…” Carlisle chuckled reflectively. “I’ve never seen such a mess! By the time he was finished with his first feeding he had so much blood all over him that the boy looked like he did when Rosalie brought him home! But he seems very good natured and likeable so far.”

A second later we heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, and then a muffled yelp and a thumping crash, accompanied by an almost unintelligible string of curses. Had Emmett really just fallen down the stairs?

Beside me I felt Carlisle’s body shaking with silent laughter as he said to me softly, “He’s adjusting to his new vampire body. He’s almost clumsy in some ways…it’s rather funny actually.”

Emmett appeared in the doorway, looking slightly rumpled but quite different in his new clothes. His eyes skimmed past Carlisle and I and came to rest on Rosalie, but his hopeful smile dimmed a little as she refused to look back at him.

“Are the clothes suitable?” I asked him, to break the uncomfortable silence from Rosalie. “I hope you like them. I knew the sizes but I just had to guess at what colours and styles you might like.” I paused. “Rosalie chose most of them.”

Emmett sank into an armchair, seeming to slump a little as he eyes on Rosalie remained unmet. “They’re fine ma’am. Thank you again.”

I laughed lightly. “Oh, please call me Esme. Not ma’am…far too formal for home!”

Emmett gave me a lopsided smile, and beside me Carlisle leaned forward a little and said, “Now, I’m sure you must have lots of questions Emmett. I know what a big shock this all must have been for you.”

“Well,” Emmett said at last. “I was kind of wondering about the fire. I mean, I’m not feeling the cold at all, and didn’t Edward say earlier that fire was about the only sure way to destroy a vampire?”

Carlisle chuckled. “It’s mainly for the atmosphere in the house, I must confess. It’s much homier to have a fire going even if we don’t need the warmth. And fire itself isn’t really dangerous- you could put your arm into a little fire like that and not even come out with a scorch mark. It’s the venom within your body that’s so highly flammable , so if we were to rip you to pieces and toss them in the fire, well then you’d burn.”

“Are there many of you? I mean, around the place? How come no one ever notices?” Emmett sounded baffled.

“There are more vampires around the world,” Carlisle answered. “More in some places than others, of course. The more heavily populated a place is the more attractive it is to vampires, most of whom don’t share our aversion to feeding on humans. We are a little unusual for vampires, because of living solely off animals blood and because we live a very human lifestyle and consider ourselves a family. Most vampires live fairly nomadic lives, for obvious reasons. Mated pairs are common, sometimes small groups called covens form and they last as long as they’re useful and the members get along. Apart from one coven, the Volturi, who live in Italy and enforce the rules, the groups are never large.”

“How come people don’t know?” Emmett asked sceptically.

“Secrecy is the most important rule for vampires and it must always be at the forefront of your mind. For us this means blending in and acting as human as possible. Not doing anything that brings our abilities and true nature to light when humans are around, and hiding any evidence of mistakes,” Carlisle said plainly. “For other vampires it’s more about remaining hidden and keeping out of trouble. You know that people die in accidents and disappear quite frequently- you might be surprised at how often someone from this world is involved.”

“And you’re a doctor?” Emmett asked slowly.

“Yes. I work at the hospital in town. Edward is attending college, and Rosalie has begun taking some classes too.” Carlisle paused before going on thoughtfully. “What you do from here is up to you, Emmett. While we’d love to have you stay and become part of the family, you’re under no obligation to us. You’re welcome to make your own way, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

I saw Rosalie’s head whip around, and her eyes were wide and fierce. Oh, there was _someone_ who wouldn’t be at all happy if Emmett wanted to go on his own way!

Not that she had to worry. “I think I’d rather stay here for the time being, if that’s okay with you all,” Emmett said quickly.

“That’s absolutely fine,” I said with a smile. It was better than fine…Carlisle might have been willing to let Emmett head off into the wilderness alone, but with Rosalie in pieces over him I would have probably forced him to stay myself if he had made any hint at wanting to leave!

Edward entered the room then and went to the piano. Rosalie had left her purse sitting on the top, much to his displeasure, and viciously he picked it up and hurled it at her head.

Rosalie, of course, caught it before it could touch her. “No need to throw a tantrum,” she said scornfully.

“The piano is not a table,” Edward muttered through gritted teeth. “And it’s not like I haven’t asked you to keep your things off it before!”

Rosalie rolled her eyes and stuffed her purse into the bookshelf before she sat gracefully in the armchair beside Emmett. I don’t know if she noticed the way he leaned in towards her, but a moment later her eyes flicked up and caught his gaze.

“Do you play?” he asked, indicating the piano.

“I _can_ play,” Rosalie answered carefully. “But not like Edward does.”

“Be careful Rosalie…that was almost a compliment,” Edward smirked, tinkling the keys, and Rosalie scowled and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Rose and Edward!” I reprimanded them, fed up with their endless sniping. “That’s enough. Surely you can behave yourselves for one day! What will Emmett think of you?”

Both of them gave me resentful looks and then turned back to their individual pursuits. Sighing, I looked across at Emmett who was fidgeting a little awkwardly in the armchair. “Do you play an instrument, Emmett?” I asked him.

“Nope. I like listening to it though,” he offered. “I spent most of my time outside- tracking and hunting and fishing, and helping out on the farm. I’m pretty good with horses, my grandad breeds them and I used to spend summers up at his place so I learned a lot from him.”

“You’ll have to keep away from horses now,” Carlisle told him seriously. “Animals are much more attuned to their instincts than humans, and they recognise us as predators. It’s better to stay away, especially from something big like a horse that can do a lot of damage if it’s spooked. Not to mention you may well want to feed on it, and it’s a bit harder to explain away a drained horse than some wild animal!”

“Oh.” Emmett’s face fell a little, and I felt sorry for him. It had been clear even before he told us that he was an outdoors man, and I hoped the restrictions vampirism would place on him wouldn’t turn out to be too burdensome.

A moment later I looked up at a surprising wrong note from Edward on the piano to see Emmett suddenly squirming awkwardly in place and looking guilty. Edward raised his eyebrows. “I think living with you is going to take some getting used to. His thoughts are very loud,” he added towards Carlisle and I.

I wondered what Edward was picking up from Emmett’s mind, although judging by the way his red eyes kept shifting sideways to Rosalie I could make a fairly good guess!

“So, is that mind reading thing part of being a vampire or what?” Emmett asked with slightly forced casualness.

“Not exactly,” Carlisle answered him. “I’ve known several vampires with extra abilities, or gifts, but it’s not really common. There’s a theory that vampirism can…enhance human abilities, and that seems to be the case with Edward. He was an intuitive human, but it’s only since his change that he’s been a telepath.”

Emmett fell quiet then, slouching down in the armchair a little and listening to Edward’s music. He looked often at Rosalie although she pretended indifference to him, and let his eyes roam around the room, distracted by all he could see with his new clarity of vision. As night wore on though he became restless, shifting uncomfortably and fidgeting, and then making a low noise in his scalded throat.

I was about to suggest we go out hunting when Rosalie put her book aside, and for the first time since they’d both been in the living room, turned and actually looked at him, saying uncertainly, “Are you okay?”

For a moment he just stared at her, his eyes wide and full of wonder, his lips slightly open and curved in a half smile. But then he swallowed repeatedly and murmured awkwardly, “I’m fine thank you, Miss Rosalie.”

I would have thought Rosalie would have appreciated the formality in his address, but at his words her face shut down and she looked back at her book. I shook my head, and then Edward was on his feet, saying briskly, “Okay, that’s enough! You’re thirsty, right…let’s go out.”

Emmett looked away from Rosalie with reluctance and shook his head.

“Outside,” Edward said firmly. “Rose, are you coming? We’re going hunting- I’m going to introduce Emmett to the joys of carnivores.”

Rosalie rose from her chair, looking horrified, and I suddenly remembered how much she had hated having anyone watch her hunt and feed at the start. “I can’t Edward,” she said, “I’m sorry.”

I broke the silence left after Edward and Emmett went outside, and said Rosalie’s name.

“Yes?” She turned and faced me, her arms folded defensively across her chest.

I glanced at Carlisle, silently warning him to tread carefully. Rosalie had always been highly strung, but there was a brittleness about her since Emmett had woken that we hadn’t seen since her very early vampire days.

“We’re not going to interfere with what’s going on between you and Emmett…” Carlisle began.

“There’s nothing _going on_ between Emmett and I,” Rosalie huffed.

This was so staggeringly untrue that I giggled involuntarily, and Carlisle closed his eyes briefly, as if unable to cope with Rosalie’s delusion.

“Come on Rosalie,” I said softly. I wouldn’t push romance where there were no feelings, but Rosalie was in complete denial, and that was not usual for her. Whatever her other faults were, Rosalie was direct and honest, even when it came to uncomfortable truths about herself.

“You didn’t leave his side during his transformation,” I went on, “And now he’s woken up and the two of you can’t keep your eyes off…”

“Don’t!” she said sharply, hugging herself tightly. “He’s nobody! He was dying, that’s all…he can do what he likes or go where he likes and I don’t care…”

“Well, he seems intent on staying with us for the immediate future,” Carlisle said calmly. “As I said Rosalie, no one is going to interfere. You’re a grown woman and you can make your own choices. However you brought him here and you begged me to change him, so you must bear some measure of responsibility for him. He needs to adjust to what he is now and we must all help him do that.”

“I’ll try,” Rosalie muttered. “But I won’t hunt with him.” Scowling defiantly, she marched out of the room.

“I hoped this might be simpler,” Carlisle said with a long, slow sigh. “After the way she demanded I change him I thought she would…well, I suppose I didn’t expect this.”

I stroked his face. “You’re not still thinking about what she said to you?” My lips tightened as I remembered Rosalie’s screamed taunts over the body of a dying Emmett.

Carlisle shrugged. “At least I know what she really thinks of me now,” he said bleakly.

“She doesn’t think that way of you!” I said indignantly. “She was beside herself that night…I doubt she knew what she was saying at all.”

I knew I was lying. Rosalie had known _exactly_ what she was saying, when she had forced Carlisle to change Emmett.

“And anyway,” I added hastily. “Even if she _did_ think that way…you changed him. You gave her Emmett, for all that she doesn’t seem to know what she wants to do with him now! And she can’t hate you for doing something to her that she demanded for that man. No,” I said thoughtfully, “Rosalie is going to have to do some very serious soul searching about all of this, Carlisle…she’s not the troubled newborn anymore and it’s time she grew up and took a little responsibility for herself and her own actions.”

 


	44. Tempting Emmett

I heard Emmett and Edward returning early in the morning. Edward appeared upstairs and gave me a friendly smile as he passed me to go to his room.

“Emmett’s down in the laundry. He’s a complete mess. We tracked a bear and apparently Emmett’s the vengeful type!” he laughed.

I couldn’t help laughing too, and then went down to the laundry to see if Emmett needed some help. He had stripped off his bloodied shirt and was looking vaguely around when I went in there, so I took the shirt gently from his hands and headed towards the sink.

“I can do that for you.”

“You don’t have to do my laundry,” he said, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly. “I messed it up…I don’t know if it’ll clean up but I’ll try.”

I began filling the sink with cold water. The shirt was soaked, but the blood was fresh and would hopefully wash out. “We’ll soak it and see. I’m quite good with bloodstains you know! And I don’t mind doing it at all. I don’t expect you did the laundry at home.”

“I did all the laundry for everyone for about six months last year,” Emmett volunteered. “My Ma…there was going to be another baby and she had to go to bed. Hannah and Maggie did most of the house stuff, but the laundry was too heavy for them and someone had to do it. So I learned how. I’m pretty good with a mop too.”

I smiled at his earnestness. “I’ll be sure to remember that Emmett. Your mother recovered though?” Carlisle had told me about Emmett’s large family, and I was rather fascinated.

“Yes ma’am…Esme,” he said. “She lost the baby in the end, but she was fine after a bit.”

“Oh, I am sorry,” I said sympathetically. Losing a baby, even when you had ten other children already, was a heartbreaking story. Looking at Emmett I saw that as well as the blood spatter across his brand new trousers he had also somehow managed to tear right through the knees.

“Give me your pants too, and I’ll soak those as well,” I said practically. “I can patch them…if that’s okay. I mean, we don’t usually do that, and of course we can go out and get new ones if you prefer, but perhaps…well perhaps while you’re getting used to things we could patch them and keep them for hunting? Only if you don’t mind, as I said I’m happy to buy new, you mustn’t worry about the money…” My voice trailed off. I was mortified that I’d even mentioned money to Emmett, since he seemed to already feel self-conscious about taking from us. I didn’t want to make things worse.

But he only laughed at me in a friendly way and said cheerfully, “Esme, I was fourth in line for clothes in my family. I’ve worn clothes that were more patches than pants…I don’t mind, really! It’s a good idea.”

“Okay then, off with them and give them to me,” I said briskly, wringing clear water through the shirt.

Emmett wasn’t particularly shy, and sat down on an upturned bucket to unlace his boots and unbutton his trousers.

“I lost a child too,” I said after a moment, his story of his mother’s dead baby bringing back memories of my own sweet baby boy.

“I’m sorry,” Emmett said simply. He didn’t seem flustered or embarrassed, but he was sincere and I appreciated it.

“He lived for two days, the sweet little thing,” I said reminiscently. “I was heartbroken when he died. My husband was not a good man, and after my little wee boy died I thought I didn’t have anything to live for. So I tried to kill myself by jumping off a cliff.”

“I’m sorry,” Emmett said again, sounding a little more rattled.

I thought I may as well tell him the rest of the story and get it out of the way, and I added, “Carlisle changed me after that. I’d met him, years before, but lost touch with him and was quite surprised to see him when I awoke from the burning!”

Emmett grinned. “Yeah, I bet that was kind of something.” He kicked his boots into the corner and wriggled out of his trousers, handing them to me. “Thanks.”

 “Thank you. So you see, I rather like taking care of all them,” I said directly. “I didn’t get to mother my own little son for very long, so all my maternal instincts are being spent on Edward and Rosalie! It would mean a great deal to me if you’ll allow me to take care of you as part of the family too.”

There was something almost irresistible about Emmett’s dimpled smile as he sat back down on the bucket, pulling off his socks and blinking up at me.

I smiled down at him and then pointed to the tiled shower recess behind him. “Now, I think it would be best if you just showered in here and cleaned up a little before coming into the house, if you don’t mind.”

“Esme!” There was a sudden noise in the hall and Rosalie stepped through the door, holding a catalogue.  “Esme, there you are! I’ve marked what I want…Oh! I didn’t know you were in here!” Startled, Rosalie gripped her catalogue tighter and stared down at Emmett in astonishment.

For a moment we were all frozen, the two of them staring at each other and me staring at both of them, and then Rosalie’s lip twitched and her beautiful face relaxed into a smile. Emmett’s eyes lit up and he winked at her, and just for a second I think both of them were happy.

Of course the next minute Rosalie’s face closed, and I began bundling her out of the laundry, not wanting to see the disappointment on Emmett’s face as she withdrew.

“Oh, Rose, I was just sorting out Emmett’s laundry. I’ll come and have a look with you now,” I said to her. “Emmett, there are towels in the press, help yourself.” I didn’t look back at him as I practically pushed Rosalie along the hallway to the living room.

“He looked messy.” Rosalie sat down at the table beside me and her smile looked almost normal.

I laughed. “I shall have to ask Edward what he does when he hunts! His brand new clothes are almost ruined- I’m going to have to do some mending.” I reached across for the catalogue. “Let me see what you’ve chosen. We’ll write a check and send the order off tomorrow.”

Choosing clothes with Rosalie was never really a simple process. It always involved a great deal of debate on what she should choose, and in what colour and how many and did she need a new pair of shoes to go with that? I didn’t mind though. After so many years of Carlisle and Edward’s vague “Buy what you want” approach to shopping I enjoyed having someone else who was a little more interested in the nuances!

Once Rosalie had decided on her selection and filled out the order form I flipped through the catalogue to the men’s section. Judging by the state of Emmett’s clothes after hunting I thought what Rosalie and I had bought him in town would last him no time at all, despite what magic I could work with patches.

“Emmett,” I called to him as I heard him approaching the living room after his shower. “Would you come here for a moment?”

Beside me Rosalie stiffened, staring down at her magazine with fixed determination as Emmett walked over. I would have almost thought she was repelled by him, if I hadn’t noticed the slight flaring of her nostrils and heard her slow, deep breath as she inhaled his scent.

 “Do you like these shirts, Emmett?” I asked, pointing to a page in the catalogue and ignoring Rosalie for the time being. “They’re lovely quality.”

Emmett rumpled his curls with one hand and said anxiously, “I don’t need anything else ma’am…Esme. You’ve given me too much already, I’ll try and take more care…” He tugged at the cuffs of his new shirt, already missing a button, and looked at me guiltily.

“Please don’t worry about that,” I said gently, remembering how awkward I had initially felt at spending someone else’s money. While I had certainly not grown up in poverty, my childhood on the farm probably came closer to Emmett’s experiences than the privileged city existences of Edward and Rosalie, and I understood his reluctance to accept what he felt he couldn’t pay for.  

“I can mend it,” I assured him. “Don’t fret about the money Emmett, truly it’s not an issue…we’re the reason you’re here, and we’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you, but…” Emmett raised his hands helplessly.

It was something we would have to work on. His pride couldn’t be allowed to stop him from accepting what was his due as a member of the family. Without bothering him about it any further I added several shirts and trousers to the order.

“Emmett,” Carlisle entered the room and smiled at us all, his hand tenderly caressing the back of my neck as he stood close behind me. “Hello my love, hello Rosalie. I was thinking, Emmett, that we might take you out and see how you react to the scent of humans. You’ll understand that we can’t risk any accidents- we’ll come with you and stop you by force if it’s necessary?”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Emmett said doubtfully.

“Edward has expressed doubts that he’ll be able to stop you alone,” Carlisle told him. “If you wouldn’t mind coming out into the yard we can see how strong you are and devise a plan for keeping everyone safe while we experiment with your tolerance to human scent.”

Emmett shrugged and grinned. “Hey, I don’t mind a wrestle. Bring it on!”

The house almost shuddered as he bounded from the room and thudded across the porch. I couldn’t help wincing, remembering Rosalie’s newborn trail of destruction and wondering how much of _this_ house was going to be damaged by newborn Emmett before he got control of himself. Not through temper or malice- already Emmett seemed to be far more sunny natured than the rest of us- but just through a combination of high spirits and clumsiness.

Guessing my train of thought, Carlisle smiled at me in amusement. “We’re probably better off keeping him outside!” he said, following Emmett out.

I was curious, and while Emmett, Carlisle and Edward all faced off in the yard, Rosalie and I perched decorously on the steps to watch what turned out to be a most unequal vampire wrestling match!

Carlisle and Edward stood shoulder to shoulder, but it didn’t matter what they did. Emmett, with an enormous grin and a bull roar, simply charged them and threw them both effortlessly out of the way. “Fuck me, this is awesome!” Emmett laughed, clearly forgetting that he was trying to watch his language.

Beside me Rosalie shook with laughter, especially when Emmett picked Edward up and tossed him into the air like a football. Edward didn’t know whether to be entertained by the shenanigans or furious at this loss of dignity, and somehow managed to both scowl and laugh at the same time. I don’t think I had ever seen Rosalie enjoy anything else in the same way she was clearly enjoying seeing Edward being roundly beaten at something!

“You won’t always be this strong,” Carlisle told Emmett, shaking his head and smoothing down his clothes as he picked himself up from the dirt. Edward was not the only one who had taken several hits, and Carlisle was far from his usual state of immaculacy. “Vampires are always strongest in their first year or so after the change. But even for a newborn you’ve got more power than anything I’ve seen. It will be interesting to see how you end up.” He glanced across at Rosalie and I. “I think we’ll need both you ladies to accompany us when we take him out- between the four of us we might manage to avoid trouble.”

Walking through the forest was lovely. I laced my hand through Carlisle’s and matched my pace to his, and he looked down at me with a fond smile, glancing over his shoulder at the three of them trailing behind us. Several time he had to call to Emmett, who was continually stopping to stare, entranced, at the myriad of tiny details his vampire senses exposed to him.

“I hope this goes well,” Carlisle murmured anxiously. “He’s terrifyingly strong…if it comes to stopping him physically you’ll have to be careful.”

I took a quick look back. Emmett was, at that point, standing in a shaft of sunlight watching the sparkle of his own skin in fascination as he moved his arm through the rays of light. The last thing he looked was dangerous.

But then the scent of human blood, just a tiny waft of it, drifted past and Emmett changed from a big teddy bear of a man-child into a predator. His whole body shifted, the muscles tensing and bunching as he readied himself to hunt, his eyes gone dark and focussed.

“Emmett, steady on,” Carlisle said, and Edward reached out a soothing hand. But Emmett simply hit it away like it was nothing more than an irritating fly and moved past us, fast and smooth, heading towards the source of the scent.

For a moment I thought we had lost him. The wind blew the scent more strongly towards us and Emmett growled, a low sound of menace. I caught the horrified look that passed between Carlisle and Edward…how were we to stop him?

Then Rosalie stepped forward, closer to him than she’d been, and said his name. Just his name, quietly and without expression, but it was enough.

“Rosalie, be careful,” Carlisle said quickly.

“It’s fine,” she said calmly, not looking away from Emmett’s dark eyes. “It’s fine, right Emmett?”

Emmett’s face was twisted with pain, and he raked his hands through his hair, pulling hard and then squeezing his skull in his agitation. “I want it,” he muttered. “I can smell it…sweet Jesus, I want it!” But with Rosalie beside him, he held himself steady.

My throat burned in sympathy as I watched Emmett struggle. I knew how hard it was the first time, but he was resisting, he was trying…

“I can’t…fuck, fuck, fuck….” He moaned again and stumbled, going down onto his knees and breathing in harsh, ragged gasps.

His obvious pain was too much for Rosalie, and seemingly unaware of Edward, Carlisle and I watching her, she knelt down beside Emmett, bending towards him. Emmett eyes were shut tight, but he instinctively leaned towards her and breathed, taking in her scent in an effort to dilute the call of the blood.

 “I can’t.” His eyes met hers, an agonised combination of desire and shame warring in his face. “I can’t…I want it too much.”

“You can,” Rosalie snapped, and Emmett laughed a little hysterically. When she went on, her voice was a little more gentle. “You’re doing it now, Emmett. Feel the thirst…it’s burning, I know that, but you’re fine. You’re here, you’re resisting.”

Emmett moaned again, but when he moved it was only to reach out and grasp Rosalie, her delicate hand almost disappearing in his big paw. And Rosalie, who hated to be touched and resisted any attempt at closeness, let him hold her.

“That’s good Emmett,” Carlisle said, his tone encouraging. “You’re doing fine.”

He was doing well, but the torturous effort involved was obvious and unsustainable. Finally, with a last desperate moan, Emmett shook his head. “Fuck this…I’m done.”

He ran. Left behind, Rosalie stared down at her hand, flexing her fingers. I wondered what she was thinking.

“Well, that went reasonably well,” Carlisle said optimistically “I’m sure it was difficult for him…”

“Very difficult,” Edward contributed. He rubbed his head a little wearily. “It’s not going to be easy for him. He did well today- he ran home instead of running over to them! – but I was listening to his thoughts and there were some moments that were very close. We’re going to have to be very careful with him.”

“We can do that,” Carlisle said confidently. “A little more each day and he will adjust.”

He smiled at me and I felt his hand gently curve around mine. I smiled back, and I shared his optimism. Emmett would adjust, and maybe his bold cheerfulness was just what our family needed. Maybe he was the key to drawing us all back together, and forming the tight family bond that we’d never quite managed to build with Rosalie.


	45. A Matter of Time

Emmett was sitting on the porch steps when we reached home, leaning against the railings and looking despondent. He hunched his shoulders and looked up as we approached, and my sympathy was stirred by his obvious unhappiness.

“That was fine, Emmett,” Carlisle said reassuringly. “It’s difficult, we know, but for a first time you did fine. Really…you should be happy with that.”

“But I wanted it so much,” Emmett muttered. “If you hadn’t been there…”

“It gets easier, truly it does,” I said with feeling. My own early experiences were clear in my mind, and already Emmett had done better than I had! “You’ll know what to expect next time and you’ll be more prepared for it, which makes a big difference.”

“You didn’t kill them,” Edward pointed out. “And any contact that results in humans being left alive has to be counted as a success at this point.”

I winced, feeling the old stab of guilt, but Emmett didn’t notice. He was still looking unconvinced, but as I saw Rosalie hovering at the bottom of the stairs and biting her lip, I thought that nothing I could say would have quite the same impact as if it came from that perfect face. Taking Carlisle’s hand, I tugged him with me into the house, closing the two of us in the study.

Automatically he headed for his desk, but I grabbed the back of his shirt and stopped him. “No you don’t,” I said, softly but firmly. “No work Carlisle. Not now.”

He looked over his shoulder at me with a faint look of surprise. “Something troubling you sweetness?”

“No,” I said with a sigh. “But something is going to be troubling me very much if you don’t start removing some clothes in the very near future! Mine or yours, I’ll leave that to your discretion…”

But Carlisle was laughing, and I couldn’t stop my own embarrassed giggle as he turned and wrapped me in his arms, drawing me close. “Are you feeling neglected?”

“Yes,” I murmured, untucking his shirt so I could slide my hands up underneath to feel the beautiful lines of his back. “Those three children out there seem to be requiring an awful lot of attention right now, and five people in this house doesn’t give much privacy…I want you to be just mine, just for a little while…”

“Darling girl,” Carlisle said tenderly, stripping off his clothes in a blur and then beginning to remove mine in a much more leisurely way, “You know you only have to ask, and I’m all yours.”

“Sometimes I like to make sure,” I mumbled, as Carlisle lifted me gently and laid me out on the rug, pulling off my stockings and then kissing his way up my body to claim my mouth. I curled my hands in his hair and held him close, and there was no doubt as I wrapped my legs around him that he was, at least in this way, all mine.

“Happy?” Carlisle asked dreamily, hitching my leg up over his thigh and stroking my hip.

I pressed my face into his chest and kissed him, and then tipped my face back to smile at him. “Very much so. I love you…I miss you when I don’t get to be with you.”

“Emmett has rather taken over our lives,” Carlisle admitted. “Although he’s settling in very well…he reminds me of you in that respect.” He tweaked the end of my hair affectionately.

“He did better than I did about resisting blood,” I said, a little mournfully. “Not that I’m not glad he did!” I added hastily. “Of course we don’t want anyone getting hurt on our account! I just need to resign myself to the fact that I’m always going to be the weakest link in the family.”

Carlisle chuckled and kissed me tenderly. “Sweetness, there is nothing weak about you. You have fought harder than any of us to overcome your instincts. Even more than that you are what holds us all together…Edward and I were friends and companions before you, but you made us a family. And I hate to think what would have happened to Rosalie if she hadn’t had you.”

“The poor girl is in an awful state about Emmett,” I said thoughtfully. “I know I promised not to interfere, but she’s absolutely in knots over it and it’s all so unnecessary! From the minute he opened his eyes it was clear that he was going to simply worship the ground she walks on! She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to, but it would be so much easier if she would just relax and let herself get to know him a little. He needs us, and for all Rosalie would deny it she could do with another friend too.”

“Maybe she just needs time,” Carlisle nuzzled into my neck and said teasingly, “Not every girl knows herself as well as you knew yourself, and not every girl feels as comfortable going after what she wants!”

“Oh well, when a man has spent close to three hundred years denying himself he sometimes needs a nudge,” I said comfortably. “I’m not sure that Emmett exactly needs a _nudge_ when it comes to Rosalie though…I think if she let her defences drop just a little he’d bowl her over as easily as he knocked you and Edward out of the way in the yard this afternoon!”

Carlisle laughed and stretched out. “I’m very glad I don’t bruise! Although it would have been worth it, just to see Edward’s dignity being ruffled like that- he really does need someone who can help him relax and be the boy that he still is! But speaking of Emmett, I’ve been thinking we must do something about his family. He was the oldest boy at home and from what he says I gather his mother relied on him a great deal.”

“Yes, he told me that he helped her in the house when her health was poor.” I sat up and began rolling my stockings back up my legs. “He really speaks of his family so fondly, I’m sure he must be missing them and worrying about them.”

Carlisle sighed and sat up too, pressing a kiss into my shoulder blade before he began dressing. “The family left behind is something I feel very badly about,” he admitted. “You and Edward had no family left, but Rosalie’s parents must have suffered terribly when she vanished. And now there’s Emmett’s family too.” He shrugged, looking defeated. “I can’t return him to them, but at least we can do something so that his disappearance won’t lead to more hardship.”

Once we were dressed Carlisle and I followed the sound of laughter to the living room, where we discovered Edward teaching Emmett to play chess. Edward’s face was brighter and more animated than usual, and I thought that perhaps Carlisle was right that Emmett’s youthful exuberance was something Edward rather needed.

I took up my knitting and Carlisle sat with the newspaper, although he didn’t begin reading. “We’ve been thinking about your family Emmett,” he said casually. “We understand that they relied on your help great deal and it will be harder for them now that you’re gone, and we feel rather responsible. We’d like to do something to help them.”

Emmett frowned helplessly. “I don’t know…what were you thinking?”

“Money,” Carlisle said honestly. “Enough money to buy the freehold on the property and take care of them for a long time, so that the younger children can stay in school and get an education if they wish, and the girls can marry or not as they would prefer. I know it won’t make up for missing you, or you missing them, but at least you will know they’re taken care of.”

I could see Emmett’s inner dilemma as he raked his hands through his hair and bit his lip, but in the end he shrugged and nodded weakly. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. “I promise I’ll pay you back, somehow, one day. We haven’t ever taken charity, but…” he shrugged again. “The little ones…I can’t see them missing out and going hungry and if I’m not there to bring in some extra they will.”

“Of course you must let us help,” I said firmly. “Please don’t give it another thought Emmett, we’d be grateful if you’ll allow us to help.”

“You’ll have to tell us the best way to manage it,” Carlisle said. “Where does your father bank?”

“He doesn’t,” Emmett said, as though it should be obvious. “They just keep the money at home in Grandma’s old gravy boat.”

“Well, that’s probably even easier then,” Carlisle said with a smile. “If you give us directions Emmett, then Edward and I can take some cash and that will be untraceable.”

Emmett’s face brightened with a smile. “I’ll come and show you!” But it didn’t even take Carlisle’s subtle headshake before Emmett subsided and said hoarsely, “I can’t though…I’d kill them all, wouldn’t I?”

“Carlisle and I will take care of it,” Emmett said gruffly. “We’ll let you know how they are.”

The house seemed much quieter once Carlisle and Edward had gone. Rosalie was an almost motionless figure in the armchair with a book on her lap as Emmett moved restlessly through the house, eventually flopping into a chair with Carlisle’s abandoned newspaper. The two of them spent the next hour trying to look at each other when the other one wasn’t looking, a ridiculous charade that was mostly unsuccessful, and eventually I couldn’t stand the tension any longer.

“How are you feeling, Emmett? Do you have anything worrying you?” I laid down my knitting and smiled at Emmett.

He grinned at me. “Nah, I’m good. It’s just kind of weird, you know…finding out that there’s this whole world out there that I didn’t know anything about. Vampires and…well, whatever else.” He rubbed distractedly at his throat and then burst out anxiously, “And it gets better? This thirst? I’m not always going to feel like…like I want to rip my throat out, or bolt and start massacring whole villages?”

Thinking of my own early days I winced in sympathy, but nodded. “It will get better. We’ll practice with you each day and build up your tolerance to the scent. It is difficult Emmett, I remember those first weeks well, but control is possible. But would you like to go out hunting now? I wouldn’t mind having something myself, and I confess I’m curious to see quite what you do that resulted in such a mess of your clothes!”

Emmett’s eyes lit up and he jumped to his feet. He clearly had none of the reservations Rosalie had about feeding in front of people. “I’d like to go out,” he said honestly. “I’m bad thirsty.”

I quickly packed away my knitting, pretending not to listen as Emmett bounced on his toes and asked hesitantly, clearly with his best manners, “Will you come, Miss…Rosalie?”

“No. I’m fine, thank you.” Rosalie’s voice sounded cold, but I caught the tiny tremor that underlay it. I wondered if Emmett did.

He was quiet when he and I first stepped outside, almost immediately scenting something and focussing on tracking it. He was a natural hunter and I followed his lead, content to see how he did. He found the herd of deer without difficulty, and then he beckoned me up to crouch beside him, just out of sight.

“Count of three,” he murmured. “One, two…”

We jumped at the same moment. The herd scattered in fright, but too late for the young buck I sank my teeth into, as well as the two does that Emmett took to with enthusiasm. He practically wallowed in his feeding, and I couldn’t help but smile at his groan of pleasurable satiation when he was done.

“That’s good,” he said cheerfully, wiping his face on his shirtsleeves. “Not as good as that bear though!”

“We can’t take out too many bears,” I said in amusement. “There are few enough of them as it is.”

“Goddamn killers,” Emmett said amiably, scratching his head and leaving his curls spiked up with blood. “Can’t believe I was so careless as to let one get me…don’t remember too much of it though, to be honest. I just remember her…” His voice trailed off.  

“I’m glad Rosalie was there to find you,” I said sincerely. There was something so engaging and likeable about Emmett, already I felt him carving out his place in our family and making himself an integral part of it.

Emmett frowning. “I don’t know why she did it…bringing me here. She won’t even talk to me. Guess it’s not that surprising, a girl like her. Like she would have ever had anything to do with anyone like me.” He shrugged a little despondently.

“You are every bit as good as anyone else,” I said to him firmly. “You might not have had Edward and Rosalie’s advantages growing up, but that doesn’t mean anything about your worth as a man now.”

Emmett grinned sheepishly. “That’s nice of you to say, but be real. She and Edward are going to college and Carlisle’s a doctor and you’ve got all those big books and stuff…I didn’t go to school after I was fourteen, and I pretty much never went anywhere but Gatlinburg. I’m not half as educated and cultured as the rest of you.”

“I grew up on a farm in Ohio,” I told him. “I went to the local school until I was sixteen and that was all my academic education. Time and experience are good teachers though, and as long as you believe in yourself you’ll be fine, Emmett.”

Emmett picked at the grass, sounding embarrassed as he said, “I know I’m probably just crazy to think that she’ll ever be my friend. But do you think I maybe did something to offend her? Rosalie I mean. I don’t remember much about being changed, but I know she was there…did I do something awful?”

_Oh Emmett. You couldn’t have fallen in love with a more difficult girl if you’d deliberately gone out and looked for one!_

“You didn’t do anything,” I said gently, unable to stop myself from reaching out and hugging him, stretching my arm as far it would go across his broad shoulders. “Rosalie is just very reserved, and likes to take her time in assessing new situations. I think if you give her a little bit of time, she might surprise you.”

Emmett sighed mournfully. “I guess I’m not the most patient person in the world. But she’s the most _beautiful_ person in the world, so I’ll just have to try my best.”

It had to be said that Emmett did try, as the days passed. He was nothing but sweet and respectful to Rosalie, and my heart warmed as I watched his efforts to remember his manners and temper his language so that he might fit in with the family.

But our family changed too, in order to accommodate Emmett, and I would always think it was a change for the better. His enthusiasm and joy in living reminded all of us that this was an extraordinary existence we had been given. He filled our house with a kind of carefree happiness, and I loved watching the growing friendship between him and Edward. He brought out the lighter and more playful side of Edward and even Carlisle, and despite being older than Edward and Rosalie he willingly and unselfconsciously adopted me as his mother. I have to admit I adored him, and was thankful every day that Rosalie had found him and brought him home.

Rosalie herself remained wary, but the more I grew to know and love Emmett myself, the more I became confident that it was just a matter of time. I would never have thought it possible that snobby, perfectionist Rosalie would ever want a half-educated, innocent man-child hunter from the backwoods…but I knew with all the certainty in my mother heart that they were going to be exactly what they both needed. Emmett needed Rosalie’s drive and realism, and she needed his loving, accepting heart.

If only they could see it!


	46. Love Stories

Emmett made a mighty effort at resisting the temptation of human blood. We cheered him on, but with his carelessness and impulsiveness both Carlisle and I thought secretly that it was probably only a matter of time before something went wrong.

And then it did. A traveller, coming to the house but not even reaching it before Emmett scented him and struck, killing him with savage efficiency on the front driveway. I hadn’t been at home, Rosalie and I had been out, but as we pulled up in front of the house the scent of blood and the feel of tension both hung heavily in the air.

Carlisle came down the steps to meet us, his face grave. “It was Emmett,” he said quietly, in answer to our unspoken questions. “It was a traveller, probably coming to our door looking for work or food…it was done before Edward or I could even think of stopping him.”

I covered my mouth with my hand, remembering all too well what it felt like. “What a terrible thing…the poor man! And Emmett- how did he react?”

_Has it changed his mind? Does he still want to live like this, now that he knows what the blood is like? Is he still willing to make the effort it takes to abstain?_

“He was very upset,” Carlisle said gently. “He acted purely on impulse, and once he realised what he had done he was distraught. It was an accident, that’s all…now we just need to make him see that.”

“Of course we will!” I said determinedly, relief colouring my tone. “Goodness knows I understand being in his position, I made so many mistakes early on.”

Carlisle’s eyes met mine with a look of such tender understanding I couldn’t help but drift closer to him, reaching up to cup his beautiful face in my hands and look deep into his golden eyes. “It was only your encouragement that kept me going. If I didn’t have you…”

We didn’t notice Rosalie leave as Carlisle’s mouth met mine, kissing me hungrily. It surprised me sometimes to think that it had been fourteen years since we were married, and yet it still felt like every time we kissed was a new adventure. He still looked at me with the same look of wonder that he had had on our wedding day, as if he couldn’t quite believe that I was all his, and I know there were still stars in my eyes when I looked at him.

But it wasn’t the time for more than a brief, intense kiss. Not when things had gone so badly wrong for Emmett.

“We buried the body,” Carlisle said to me with a sigh. “Edward and I have talked to him, but he’s very grieved by the whole business. He may not take many things very seriously, but he’s deeply bothered by this. He’s a good man, Esme.”

“I’ll go and speak to him too,” I said, leaving Carlisle and making my way to where Emmett was slumped in the porch swing. He seemed to be trying to shrink down and make himself as small as possible, something not very easy given his bulk! I sat beside him and placed a comforting arm over his shoulder and said gently, “Emmett my dear, I’m so sorry. Please don’t tear yourself up about it- I know you feel awful, but we have to acknowledge our mistakes and move on. You can’t allow yourself to let guilt destroy you.”

Emmett looked completely dejected as he raised his shamed eyes to meet mine. Impulsively I leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

 “I’ve been where you are more times than I care to admit,” I admitted “I made so many mistakes myself Emmett, in the early days…it’s so very hard. But it is possible, and it gets easier all the time.”

He didn’t say anything, but he rolled his heavy head over until it was resting on my shoulder, my cheek against his soft curls. I knew then, that however unexpectedly it had happened, I had somehow gained another son.

I had never seen Emmett sit so still for so long as he did that day. Carlisle, Edward and I had offered what comfort we could, but his own conscience wasn’t letting him off easily.

And then there was Rosalie. She had closed herself up in her room and said nothing to him, and as the hours ticked by my patience faded and I began to feel angry with her. Nothing was going to make Emmett feel better the way a kind word from Rosalie would, and there was no reason for her not to make the effort. I felt indignant when I remembered how much we had bent over backwards to make her transition to our family life as easy on her as possible, and I was beginning to feel disappointed in her that she wasn’t willing to make the same effort for our newest family member.

“Sweetness, is there something you want to talk about? You’re knitting as though you’re trying to kill that yarn,” Carlisle said, amused.

I sighed and laid aside my knitting, which would have to be unpicked and reknitted. The tension in my mind had translated itself to my fingers, and the half knitted sweater was suddenly three sizes smaller than it should have been. “I’m angry with Rosalie,” I admitted, my voice small. “I wish she would unbend just a little bit and go and speak to Emmett!”

“We can’t force a relationship between them,” Carlisle reminded me.

“I know, and I’m really not pushing for a romantic relationship right now,” I argued. “But we’ve offered him a place as a member of the family and he’s shown us that he’s happy to be thought of that way. But most of the time Rosalie is still treating him like an unwanted guest! It’s not very kind of her, and it’s not very fair.”

“I don’t disagree with you,” Carlisle said carefully. “But you know if we try and push Rosalie too much she’ll just dig in her heels and we’ll get nowhere. I think this is a situation where we have to tread very, very carefully. Remind her of her manners, and let Emmett take care of the rest.” Carlisle smiled at me and said with a chuckle. “It might take some time, but I think Emmett can win over almost anyone. You’ve certainly become his defender!”

I laughed, ducking my head against his shoulder. “He’s like the farm boys I grew up with, and I like that. And even though he’s older than Edward and Rosalie, he wants me to be his maternal figure, and I can’t say no to that. They’re all nearly adults, but they still need us in some ways and it’s nice to be needed.”

Carlisle’s hand caressed my hair. “Sweetness, I think you are more needed by all of us than you realise. You’ve always been the heart of our family…we’re all lucky that you’re here. I think you’ve been a big comfort to Emmett today.”

“I remember being where he is,” I said honestly. “It was so terrible to know that I’d failed, and to feel so guilty about the poor unfortunate person that was dead because of me. I was so sure that you’d never want anything to do with me ever again…it was a wretched feeling. I understand how difficult it is to come to terms with the situation, and how hard it is to balance the guilt and regret with the desire to move on.”

Before Carlisle or I could say more we heard Rosalie’s light footsteps hurrying down the stairs. Carlisle called her in, and a moment later she stood in front of us, her face sullen.

“You should go and talk to Emmett,” Carlisle suggested mildly.

Rosalie thrust out her lower lip stubbornly. “I doubt I’ll be able to say anything that you haven’t.”

“I don’t care, Rosalie,” I declared. “We’ve said we’re not interfering with whatever is going between the two of you and we’re not. But you get yourself outside right now and say something to that boy to make him feel better about himself. It’s the least you’d do for any other member of the family, and he’s one of us now too. Now scoot.”

Rosalie looked momentarily shocked, and I had to hide my grin. I very rarely spoke to her so sharply, and it was obvious that she didn’t like it one bit! She glared at me through narrowed eyes and then turned and flounced away. But she stamped her way out to the porch and Emmett, and I sat back, satisfied.

Carlisle shook his head at me, but he was smiling. “Esme Cullen…”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I don’t care if they never love each other, but I _will_ have kindness and compassion in my family, thank you very much!”

Carlisle laughed and inclined his head. “Of course. Edward and Rosalie really embody those traits when it comes to each other…”

“Oh, those two!” I shook my head in exasperation and then looked at Carlisle and giggled. “And of course I’m lying…I’ll be horribly disappointed if Rosalie and Emmett don’t fall in love!”

“Well, it won’t be for lack of trying on Emmett’s part,” Edward said dryly, dropping into the armchair opposite. “You know I try not to tell tales about what I hear, but it’s hardly giving away state secrets to say that Emmett is head over heels in love with her. He’s got the most boring mind in the house at the moment, it’s just Rosalie, Rosalie, Rosalie.”

I laughed, and even Carlisle chuckled although he gave Edward and I a slightly disapproving look. “You two really do need to leave them alone,” he said. “They’ll come to things in their own time, or not. It’s not our business.”

“You’ve got no sense of romance,” I sighed. “It’s so frustrating to have this potentially beautiful love story playing out in front of me, and neither of the main characters are doing the right thing!”

____________________________________

I didn’t know what Rosalie said to Emmett out on the porch that day but when she came back inside later, her face as beautiful and composed as ever, Emmett was behind her and he was calm.

They were a little easier with each other after that. Rosalie was still very quiet, but she was no longer as jumpy as a cat when she and Emmett were in the same room. Emmett seemed to have gained some confidence and was more relaxed around Rosalie, no longer stuttering and awkward in his desire to please her. They still spent far more time _looking_ than actually _speaking_ , but remembering Carlisle’s original shyness and reticence and the way I had waited for him, I simply bit my tongue. It was inevitable…but they were certainly taking their sweet time!

Carlisle and I took to hunting together much more frequently after Emmett’s arrival, and not simply for feeding purposes. The lack of privacy in the house bothered Carlisle more than me, but it was always nice to be together away from listening ears and a house that was rife with unfulfilled sexual tension!

We returned from one such foray, swinging our clasped hands and talking softly, and found Edward sitting alone in the living room, thoughtfully playing the piano.

“Good hunting?” he asked absently.

“Oh yes,” I answered, realising rather foolishly that we had in fact forgotten to hunt at all and I’d probably have to go out again later. “Where are Rosalie and Emmett?”

Edward stopped playing and swung around to look at me, giving me a smug smile. “You can thank me later.”

My eyes widened, and when I strained my ears I could hear the low murmur of conversation from Rosalie’s room. “You don’t say!”

“Indeed I do,” Edward said complacently. “Emmett’s been in her room for over an hour, and there’s been no shouting and she hasn’t thrown anything, so I’d have to say that it’s going well.”

I laughed as Carlisle shook his head at Edward. “You’re as bad as Esme, Edward!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Edward protested in injured tones. “I merely _suggested_ to Emmett that he go and talk to her…”

I hugged him. “Rosalie will probably never thank you for it, but I do. She needs a friend,” I whispered into his ear.

Edward went back to his piano and I followed Carlisle up the stairs to our room. Humming lightly I sat in front of the mirror and brushed my hair while he changed into a clean shirt. I noticed him looking at me in the mirror and smiling, and I glanced back. “What?”

“I suppose I just find it amusing that you’re so invested in Rosalie and Emmett,” he said.

“It’s not every day you get to watch two people fall in love,” I said cheerfully. “You know how I love a good romance! And the two of them are so sweet…”

“I’m not sure _sweet_ is the first word that springs to mind when I describe Rosalie,” Carlisle said dryly. “And I’ve watched Emmett hunt bears…again, I’m not sure _sweet_ is the word.”

“Oh, don’t be such a grouch,” I teased him. “I just want everyone to be as happy as I am with you.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Carlisle said, his voice a little hoarse. “Maybe I’m just too wrapped up in my own love story with my own beautiful wife to worry about anyone else.”

And he lifted me up into his arms and it didn’t matter that we’d just spent hours together alone in the forest, or that Rosalie and Emmett were just down the hall and Edward was downstairs…nothing mattered but that we had each other, and our own love story that would always be perfect for us as it played out year after year into forever.


	47. Playtime

After the slow and tentative start, the friendship between Rosalie and Emmett bloomed bright. They spent hours together, talking and playing and laughing, and the rest of us may as well have not existed for all the impact we had on their golden world.

Emmett in love was nothing short of gorgeous, but it was the side of Rosalie that he brought out in her that really warmed my heart. I finally saw a Rosalie who felt _hope_ , and that was a girl whose beautiful face glowed when she smiled and whose icy façade finally began to show cracks as she started to feel safe.

That was all that really mattered to me, in the end. I had wanted romance between them, but their beautiful, tender friendship was enough because it made them happy. It was impossible to say whether it would ever go further, given Rosalie’s past experiences with sex, but watching the two of them blossom in the warmth of each other’s looks and words I knew it wouldn’t matter if it didn’t.

I began to contemplate plans for an extension to the house. While Emmett had very little interest in material possessions and seemed completely content to wander the house in search of amusement, I thought it would be nice to give him a room of his own. I also thought that if we built onto the lower level of the house then Emmett could have our current room and Carlisle and I could move our bedroom down there, away from Edward and Rosalie and Emmett!

“What do you think?” I asked Edward, who was out in the yard with me. “If we take the house out to here?” I paced out the possible length of the new room, and Edward squinted at me, imagining it.

“I think it would work. We’ll have to keep the line of the house…” His voice broke off as we heard a commotion over on the edge of the yard.

It was Rosalie, her face taut with anger and her jaw set stubbornly. Emmett was only a pace behind her.

“Rosalie…” he said pleadingly, and then I winced as I watched him reach out and grab her arm. That was never going to end well.

Sure enough Rosalie whirled around and slammed her fists straight into his chest. Realising his mistake almost instantly Emmett immediately held up his hands in surrender, but Rosalie was incensed. “Don’t touch me!” she hissed. “Leave me alone!”

Rosalie completely ignored Edward and I as she stormed past, and a moment later I heard the slam of her bedroom door. “Oh dear,” I said. “What happened?”

Emmett shook his head and held up his hands. “Buggered if I know,” he said helplessly. “Oh, sorry Esme…I don’t know. We were out and we came across some deer. So I killed one and she flew off the handle.” He swiped a hand across his face.

 _Oh dear. The hunting…_ I had come to realise, watching Rosalie avoid hunting with Emmett and Edward at all costs, that Rosalie’s acceptance of her vampire nature did not actually extend to allowing Emmett to see it. And Emmett, who absolutely revelled in his powerful vampire body and what it could do, didn’t quite understand Rosalie’s revulsion for the very essence of what she was.

Edward, listening to my mind, gave a slight nod in my direction and smiled sympathetically at Emmett.

Emmett scowled at him. You could tell me something,” he muttered. “Just a hint…help a brother out!”

Edward shrugged. “Talk to Rosalie.”

“Like she’s going to open her door to me now!”

“I didn’t mean talk to her right now!” Edward exclaimed. “I meant when she calms down. Look Emmett, I’m sorry. I really am. But you know what she’s like- anything I tell you she’ll consider a betrayal and she’ll hate you for knowing.”

Emmett moaned, but he didn’t press the issue. Looking sulky he left us and a moment later we heard the noise of him breaking up firewood on the other side of the house, one of many ways he relieved his feelings.

“I hope she gets over it soon,” Edward murmured to me.

I shrugged, a little sadly. “That streak of self-loathing she has is so heartbreaking. I would so love to see her really happy and finally accepting herself.”

I continued to think about Rosalie as Edward and I measured the new room and I went inside to do some calculations on materials. There was only silence from Rosalie’s room, and even when I went and knocked gently and asked her if she wanted to talk she refused.

“Where did Emmett go?” I asked Edward, as I passed him on the stairs.

“I don’t know,” Edward said, frowning faintly. “Hunting, perhaps?”

It seemed odd that he would have gone hunting straight after the deer with Rosalie, but more than the rest of us Emmett hunted for fun so I didn’t think about it too much. I took my sketchbook and my novel and went and sat on the porch, drawing and reading and dreaming away the afternoon.

“Hello my love.” Carlisle’s eyes were soft as he joined me on the porch upon his return from work.

I kissed him, and allowed myself to relax against him for a moment. “How was your day?”

“Surprisingly quiet,” Carlisle answered, taking a seat beside me on the porch swing and pulling me close to him. “Mainly coughs and rashes and pregnancies and babies that are not getting enough to eat. I’m giving away fruit instead of lollipops to the children now because they need the vitamins. The nurse thinks I’m wasting my money scandalously, but we can afford it and goodness knows most of these families can’t.” Carlisle sighed heavily. I knew how he hated feeling helpless in the face of poverty. “But how was your day?”

“Edward and I started drawing up some plans for the new addition to the house,” I said thoughtfully. “And Emmett ate a deer in front of Rosalie, which upset her. She’s in her room and he’s…well, I’m not sure.” I looked at the sun and realised how long Emmett had been gone.

Carlisle cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. “He’ll turn up.”

I couldn’t help worrying though. Emmett was still new and unpredictable, and although he often went out hunting on his own he usually told us beforehand that he was leaving, and he was seldom gone as long as he had been today. Even Edward came out to join us on the porch, pretending to be casual but really peering down the driveway and into the forest. All of us were relieved when we finally saw a flash of dark curly hair and a white smile and Emmett came bounding up to the porch, grinning happily.

“Everything all right, Emmett?” Carlisle asked.

“Sorry I didn’t say anything.” Emmett stopped at the bottom of the steps, looking up repentantly. “I didn’t think to. I just went in to town.”

“It went well?” I asked uncertainly. I didn’t think he’d be looking so cheerful if things had gone badly, but it never hurt to check.

“I was a very good boy. I just went shopping, that’s all,” Emmett said smugly, and withdrew a baseball bat from behind his back with a flourish. “There you go, my friend. For you,” he said, beaming as he tossed it to Edward.

Carlisle gave a small chuckle, but Edward’s smile lit up his face.

“Emmett,” he said in pleasure, holding the bat and swinging it. “What a good idea.”

“It’s about time you all got outside and did something besides read all day,” Emmett taunted with a devilish grin. “Bunch of lazy good for nothings! You play, right?”

“Not since…before,” Edward said, his eyes gleaming at he looked at the smooth wood of the bat and balanced it in his hands.

“Well, I figure we can scratch up a game between the five of us,” Emmett pronounced.  “And be prepared to lose for once Edward, because baseball is my sport and I’m going to beat your skinny ass into the ground…s’cuse my language again Esme.”

But I was laughing. I never did mind Emmett’s colourful language, for all he continued to apologise for it. “You want me to play baseball?” I asked doubtfully.

Emmett simply nodded and grinned as he tossed the two hardballs he’d pulled out of his pockets at me. Without thinking I caught them, my vampire reflexes unfailingly quick and accurate, and Emmett winked. “See, you’re a natural,” he told me happily. “Set it up Edward- I’m going to go upstairs and get Rosalie.”

Edward snorted. “Good luck with that!”

Emmett elbowed him hard in the ribs as he passed him, making Edward grunt. But he was still grinning as he took another couple of swings with the bat, and then passed it across to Carlisle. “Try it out.”

Carlisle jumped down from the porch and swung too. He looked younger and more carefree as the breeze ruffled his hair, and he laughed up at me. “Sweetness, how about you pitch me one?”

“I don’t know how!” I exclaimed. “You’ll have to show me.” I had to admit I had been doubtful about baseball when Emmett suggested it, but Carlisle and Edward seemed so enthusiastic I thought I had to try it.

“I don’t think we can play in the yard though,” Edward said, jumping down beside Carlisle and looking around critically. “Seriously…how far do you think you’re going to be able to hit?”

“You’re right. Maybe we need to go and play in the farmer’s fields? Would that be safe?” Carlisle mused.

“I think so. If we all keep alert we should be able to notice anyone coming…Emmett! Rose! Are we playing out here or what?” Edward finished by bellowing up to the second floor window.

“Edward!” I nudged him. “Leave them make it up…”

But a moment later Emmett and Rosalie appeared in the yard, and I guessed that they must have made it up. I was more sure when I noticed a new bracelet on Rosalie’s wrist, and I thought that the baseball bat wasn’t the only thing Emmett had gone shopping for!

I had never played baseball and despite going to an occasional game with Carlisle and Edward, who both enjoyed following the sport, I was very ignorant when it came to the rules and the ways to play. Rosalie didn’t know either, so all three of the men tried to outshout each other to teach us, all of us claiming that only they knew best, which was quite funny. I hadn’t expected Carlisle to be quite so territorial about it!

The game itself, once we got into it, was more enjoyable than I had hoped. I was a little hesitant to join in as I watched Emmett and Edward pitch to each other at the speed of light and then send the ball hurtling back into the forest with the bat. The two of them clashed over catching a hit from Carlisle, and after crashing into each other they skidded halfway across the field in a shower of dirt and grass. Rosalie’s competitive nature came to the fore and she joined in wholeheartedly, shouting insults at Emmett and sliding into base with her dress practically around her waist, laughing at Emmett’s distraction and Edward’s teasing. Carlisle offered to pitch to me, and the others were very encouraging, so I joined in and found that while I didn’t play as well as they did I wasn’t too bad.

I was surprised how much fun it was, to take this very human pastime and make it our own, and once again I was struck by how lucky I had been in this second chance life. This family…my beautiful golden doctor husband, and Edward and Emmett and Rosalie…more than I could have ever dared to hope for.

The game ended with Emmett claiming victory- for himself at least, since we didn’t really have enough people to make teams! Edward objected to this and the two of them argued good-naturedly as we headed back towards the house, the teasing ending only when Emmett took off towards the river to bathe. The rest of us went back to the house, where Carlisle and I shared a quick shower in the laundry room as Rosalie ran herself a tub.

“So, you liked baseball then?” Carlisle asked as the two of us dressed.

I laughed. “I did! It makes a change from playing chess and Lexiko anyway!”

“It was fun,” Carlisle said, looking reflective. “Sports are such a human pastime…it was a rather exhilarating game.”

“I liked doing something all together too,” I confided in him as I tucked in my shirt and tidied my hair. “It really feels like our family bonds are getting stronger and better all the time, and that’s wonderful. I didn’t realise how fractured it felt after Rosalie’s arrival, how much I was desperately just trying to hold us all together. I mean, Rosalie pushed us all away as much as she clung to us. And then Edward drew away too, because he found all her anger and hatred so hard to listen to. It wasn’t until Emmett came and it changed that I realised how much it all mattered to me, that we are a family.”

Carlisle finished doing up his shoes and came and swept me up into his arms with an affectionate smile. “I love our family too. You know, in my human life it was just my father and I, and he was not a demonstrative man. Then I was turned and I remained alone for so long. I thought that perhaps I was simply destined to be a mostly solitary creature, never really forming close bonds with another. Edward showed me that I was capable of more, and then there was you…” He kissed me, long and lingeringly. “You made my whole world look different. I had spent so many years trying to be more than I was, trying to live up to ideals that sometimes seemed impossible, and you made it all mean so much more. Now we have Edward and Rosalie and Emmett, and you all share this vision and belief…I am the luckiest man in the world to have this family.”


	48. Seeing Happiness

Carlisle and I descended the stairs hand in hand, to find the soft light of a fire illuminating the living room and Edward pushing the sofa back against the bookcase. He had already moved the table and with the sofa shifted there was a good-sized space of empty floor.

“I’m going to play the piano for you to dance,” he told us cheerfully. “I know we haven’t done it since…well, before Rosalie probably, but I don’t think she’ll mind so much now. It seemed like a good way to end the day.”

Carlisle grinned at me bashfully. “Oh dear…are you ready to have your feet stepped on?”

I reached up and kissed him, nipping his lower lip gently with my teeth. “Don’t be silly! You’re a lovely dancer.”

Carlisle shook his head, but he smiled and stepped back enough that he could make a courtly bow in my direction. “Then Mrs Cullen, if I may have the pleasure?”

“Of course,” I said, and on cue Edward began to play a bright, lilting waltz. Carlisle took my hand and I slid my other hand across his back, and we began to move together.

I loved dancing with Carlisle. I had taught him how to after my change, when he made the embarrassed confession to me that, apart from some formal dances from the 1700s that he had learned during his time with the Volturi, he didn’t know how. Edward would play for us if he was at home, and if he wasn’t we would dance to the records, and I would hold him close and let the music take my mind away into romantic dreams. It was something we had rarely done since Rosalie’s arrival though, all of us instinctively avoiding things that would remind her too much of what she missed from her human life.

I didn’t think I’d ever seen Rosalie as happy with her vampire life as she was that evening though. She came in with Emmett and he pulled her close to him so they could dance, and her face was nothing short of luminous when she looked at him. The two of them were much showier than Carlisle and I, and Edward played them some faster and more modern music, and I laughed as I watched their joyous performance. I could see very clearly how it must have been for them in their human lives- Rosalie the belle of the society ball and Emmett flirting and handsome at the country hall dances. They had both lost so much through their transformation to vampirism, and I was happy for them that they seemed to be finding something else meaningful in their new lives.

They took a break from each other and I danced with Emmett while Carlisle partnered Rosalie. Emmett tried to be gallant, but he could barely tear his eyes away from Rosalie. Eventually he just picked me up and swung me around the room, holding my feet six inches above the floor so that he wouldn’t step on me while his attention was elsewhere! Carlisle was speaking with Rosalie in quiet, serious tones as they circled the floor so I kept Emmett with me until I saw them relax and laugh at each other.

“Thank you for the dance,” I said teasingly to Emmett, giving him a hug. “Now you go back to Rosalie and enjoy yourself.”

Carlisle’s arm slipped across my back and I felt his warm breath on my ear. “May I have my beautiful wife back?”

I turned to him with a welcoming smile, letting him take me in his arms. “I’m all yours.”

The music was soft and romantic, and I relaxed as the two of us moved slowly together. I loved the feel of him against me like this, the touch as his body stirred and I thought about later, alone in our room. Carlisle must have been thinking along similar lines, because even though he was usually shy about anything more than brief kisses in public he drew me closer to him and lowered his face to mine. I kissed him back, losing myself in the taste and feel of him, feeling a moment of beautiful contentment.

The moment was shattered though, when Carlisle and I were bumped aside as Rosalie barged past, fleeing the room. I saw her face, taut with pain, and then she was gone and I turned to Emmett, who was standing in the centre of the room looking bereft.

“Well, that didn’t work,” Edward murmured with a sigh, ceasing to play.

Emmett glared at him. “Do you have to? I know I’ve fucked this up, I don’t need you putting your smart ass comments in!”

“Emmett,” Edward held up a hand. “I didn’t mean you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Emmett ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “Leave her alone!”

“Calm down Emmett,” I said, hoping to settle him down. “It’s just Rosalie. You know her- you know that she’s complicated.”

And the two of them had come so far in just the space of the day! The hunting, the baseball game, the dancing and touching… I couldn’t be surprised that Rosalie had cracked.

Emmett threw up his hands. “I don’t know what to do! I love her, but it’s like every damn thing I do is wrong!” His voice shook.

I made a sympathetic noise. I wished I could do something for him, for both of them! But it was a situation that only Emmett and Rosalie would be able to navigate.

Edward looked steadily at Emmett. “You say you love her. You mean that?”

“ _Yes.”_ Emmett didn’t even hesitate.

“And you’re willing to do what it takes?” Edward’s eyes were hard.  “Because I will tell you this Emmett, Rosalie is never going to be easy. A relationship with her is always going to take work, because that girl has been broken and even though she’s put herself back together there are scars there that you haven’t even glimpsed yet. If you take on loving her you are taking it _all_ on and you had better be damn sure that you want it before you make her love you. Understand?”

“Yes.” Again there was no hesitation. When it came to Rosalie, Emmett would do anything.

Edward sighs. “Then go after her. Now. She needs you, even if she thinks she doesn’t.”

Emmett ran.

I leaned against Carlisle and looked across at Edward, surprised by his insight into Rosalie and his protectiveness of her damaged, brittle heart.

“You think I don’t like her and that’s all there is to it,” he said to me quietly. “But it’s not true. She drives me crazy, yes, but I admire her strength and determination and passion more than you know. Rosalie is like my sister and as part of this family we’re always going to be linked. I want her to be happy…I want _Emmett_ to be happy, and the only way that’s going to happen is if they’re together.”

I couldn’t stop myself from moving across the room and hugging him tightly. “You are a _good_ person,” I said to him, my voice low. “We are all lucky to have you.”

Edward smiled, a little wearily. “I don’t know what will happen with them. I don’t know if Rosalie can…well, I don’t know if it will be like it is with you and Carlisle.” I think he would have been blushing if he could. “But Emmett – for all he thinks about sex so often! – won’t care if she never does. He loves her unselfishly, and will be happy with a platonic friendship if that’s all she wants to give.”

Thoughtfully I sat on the sofa and absently took up my sewing. The romantic mood thoroughly broken, Carlisle dropped a chaste kiss on my forehead and then sat down at the table with Edward and a pile of medical journals. I began stitching buttons back onto the pile of shirts that Emmett had managed to lose them from, my mind going over what Edward had said.

I noticed Edward’s tension before I heard anything. Then Carlisle coughed and I pricked up my ears and…oh. _Oh._

I remembered Rosalie saying she would never let a man, ever…apparently _never_ had really meant _not until Emmett._

Carlisle’s eyes met mine across the room with a comical look of surprise, and I bit my lip to stifle my laugh. How very awkward this was! I’d never been on this end of the embarrassment, overhearing private moments between a couple and feeling like I was invading their privacy even though I couldn’t really help it!

“Fun, isn’t it?” Edward said dryly.

I couldn’t help laughing then, which broke the tension in the room. “Edward, I apologise for the last fourteen years! And now, let’s just go on as if we have no idea, and never speak of this again!”

The two of them chuckled too, and we went back to what we were doing. It was possible to tune out what we didn’t want to hear with our vampire hearing to an extent, and I hummed as I did my sewing and deliberately let my thoughts drift. I hoped Rosalie and Emmett were working things out, and I hoped that Rosalie’s tender and vulnerable heart was ready for it. I had seen her through so much…I didn’t want to see her hurt again. While I knew Emmett would never do anything deliberately mean or cruel, he could be impulsive and clumsy with his words and for Rosalie’s fragile grip on happiness it might be too much.

My concern vanished when I saw her though. They’d been out in the garage and had to come through the living room to get back inside, and the first thing Rosalie did was meet my eyes with a slight nod. Both of them dishevelled and glowing, they didn’t speak as they walked through the room, Rosalie gripping Emmett’s hand and towing him along behind her. It wasn’t until they were almost out of sight that Rosalie turned around in the doorway and looked at us. Her face was lit up with the most smug smile I’ve satisfaction I’d ever seen her wear, and her voice was joyous when she announced, “I told you when I brought him home he was _mine._ ”

The two of them disappeared up the stairs and I heard the slam of Rosalie’s door an instant later as I looked across at Carlisle and Edward and all of us laughed.

_It’s so good to see them happy._

Edward disappeared upstairs in search of some more books later, and I laid aside my sewing and drifted over to Carlisle, who welcomed me onto his lap with a kiss. “Are you suggesting I’ve done enough work for the time being?”

“Mmm, yes.” Hitching my skirt higher out of the way, I slid my legs across Carlisle until I was straddling his thighs. “You work too hard. It’s important that you take time to relax as well.”

Carlisle grinned as he stroked my back. “Well, if relaxing involves spending time with you then I’m happy to be interrupted!”

I laughed and rested my forehead against his. “It’s been a big day. Or big night, I suppose.”

“I never thought…” Carlisle shook his head, bemused. “Who knew that all it was going to take to make Rosalie happy was a country boy from Tennessee? I should have gone looking for one years ago. We could have saved all that money on European vacations and Faberge eggs and diamond tiaras trying to cheer her up!”

I giggled. “I don’t think any country boy would have done…it had to be Emmett. And I’m glad they’re both happy.”

“I’m glad too. And I hope that now maybe Rosalie will be willing to forgive me. Or if not forgive me, at least make peace and move on,” Carlisle said wistfully.

I knew how it had hurt him, the constant, silent accusation in Rosalie’s unhappiness. I knew how much he had struggled to find a way to connect with her, to make up for what she considered his unforgiveable sin. I gently caressed his hair and said quietly, “I think she will have to, now. Not just because she is happy with Emmett and that will give her something she didn’t have before, but because she is the one who demanded you change him. She can’t condemn you for doing something to her that she was adamant you do to someone else on only her orders.”

Carlisle’s hands slid down my back and gripped my hips, bringing me closer to him so that I could lightly rub against him. “I’ve sometimes cursed myself for being able to give that dark gift,” he murmured. “I’ve wished I wasn’t able to, and thus had never had to make the choice about whether to use it or not. But then I look at you and I can’t imagine my life without the happiness you bring to it.” He kissed me deeply.

“I’m glad you waited for me,” I whispered. “I’m glad every single day that you waited, and that when you found me you had the courage to change me.” And then I wrapped myself around him and we didn’t have to talk anymore to show each other how we felt.

________________________

Rosalie and Emmett spent three days holed up in her room, while Carlisle, Edward and I did our best to ignore them. Thirst eventually drove them out and Emmett shouted a fast hello to me as he and Edward took off in the direction of the forest.

Rosalie bathed first and then disappeared in a different direction to hunt alone, returning sooner than the boys, who could be heard out in the forest whooping and hollering and apparently smashing boulders. Rosalie came and stood by the window, where I was looking out to see if I could see what they were doing.

“Hello Rosalie. Goodness, what are those boys doing out there?”

“Completely unnecessary acts of destruction I would imagine,” she said dryly.

“I do think Emmett has been good for Edward,” I said thoughtfully. “Edward has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and it worried me. He thinks too deeply and takes everything too seriously, and I have sometimes feared that he is not able to just be happy. But now there’s Emmett and I think he reminds Edward that he is still just a boy at heart. It’s wonderful to see him let go of his cares and just relax and play like he does with Emmett! Edward really needs to forget himself sometimes, and Emmett seems to have the key for doing that. Of course, it seems Emmett has the key for many things…”

I raised a sly eyebrow at Rosalie, who rolled her eyes theatrically and said dramatically, “Okay Esme…just say it! I know you’re dying to!”

“Rosalie I’m so _happy_ for you! I wanted it right from the first moment I saw you look at him! All these weeks of watching you two just circle around each other…honestly, I was starting to doubt that you’d ever get there at all, despite all my instincts telling me you were perfect for each other!” I clasped my hands and beamed at her. Troubled, unhappy Rosalie…it was a pure joy to see her happy.

Rosalie laughed, clearly a little embarrassed. “Well, I’m glad you approve, I suppose.”

“I _more_ than approve,” I said emphatically. “I wanted this for you so much Rosalie. I admit that I was disappointed at first that you and Edward never…well, we won’t go there. But when you brought Emmett home and I saw you with him during his transformation I knew that this was going to be something special. He wasn’t _quite_ what I would have imagined for you, but once I got to know him I knew it was right. He is, really, exactly right for you.”

Rosalie nodded, and I saw the sweetness of her smile that she tried to hide. But then, almost unconsciously, I saw her lips tighten and her eyes darken with unease. Rosalie’s ghosts were not going to leave her so easily, no matter how strong the light Emmett brought her.

“He loves you,” I told her simply. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you Rosalie, and I have no doubt that you are everything he wants. I believe he’d find a way to bring you the moon if you asked him for it! He loves you just for being you. I think in many ways it was the luckiest day of his life the day he met that bear and you found him in the woods, because that brought him to you.” I squeezed her hand. “And now the two of you have found each other! I _am_ pleased, Rosalie, truly I am. It’s been so hard not to interfere though! You _do_ make your own life more difficult sometimes, dear girl.”

“I know I do. I’m trying not to though Esme, really I am. And you must admit that I’m better now than I was as a newborn- horrible brat that I was then!” Rosalie laughed, looking mortified.

“Oh dear!” I couldn’t help laughing too, although I said diplomatically. “Well, it was a difficult time for you! I think it’s time you had some happiness though, so I really do wish you and Emmett all the best…I think this is going to be a wonderful time for you both.”


	49. A Place in the Sun

The bench was deep in the shade of an oak tree, and Edward and I sat in companionable silence watching the ducks on the lake and the children playing chase in the long grass.

“Carlisle will be finished work soon, and then I suppose we ought to be heading home,” I said musingly.

“You don’t sound very excited about it,” Edward observed.

“Mmm. It’s just…Emmett and Rosalie. You know.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Tell me about it.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “I don’t think they mean to be so…”

“Obnoxious? Disgusting? Revoltingly blatant?” Edward suggested.

“Are we talking about Emmett and Rosalie?” Carlisle appeared, a broad smile on his face as he kissed my cheek and slipped into the seat beside me.

Edward grinned. “Esme’s scared to go home.”

“I’m not scared to go home!” I protested. “I simply don’t want to walk in on anything!”

“Well, you’d better a pitch a tent then, because if you don’t want to risk walking in on something with those two you’ll never be able to go home again,” Edward snorted.

Carlisle squeezed my thigh. “They’re not that bad…well, yes. They are. But they’ll grow out of it, surely.”

“Yes, they might, but how much more damage are they doing to do to the house and furnishings in the meantime?” I said with a sigh, thinking about all the broken furniture, the various holes in the wall and the smashed porcelain bathtub.

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to go back to the house and find out,” Carlisle said lightly.

I smiled at him affectionately. Oddly enough, considering how reserved he himself was, he was far more tolerant of Emmett and Rosalie’s wild sex life encroaching on the rest of us than I was. I think he was really just so happy to see Rosalie finally happy and at peace that he would forgive her anything. I was happy to see her enjoying a strong, physical relationship too, but I was also becoming increasingly miffed by the careless damage to the house!

I put my wide-brimmed hat on and Edward and Carlisle tugged their hats lower over their faces and the three of us walked quickly to where to we had parked the car. For a moment I looked back at the park a little wistfully, imagining what it would be like to be human again, sitting out on a blanket in the sun and watching the light dance on the ripples of the water.

The drive home was quick. Edward had convinced Carlisle to upgrade the Buick and the new car had a lot more power that Edward exploited to the fullest. I was occasionally relieved for vampire indestructibility when Edward’s driving became just a little _too_ daring- he’d never had an accident but I reasoned that there was always a first time!

Emmett met us out on the porch when we reached home, and I knew as soon as I saw his contrite face that some mischief was afoot.

“What?” I demanded. “What did you break this time?”

Emmett dimpled at me. “Well, you _did_ say once that you might want a new one…”

“Emmett!”

“The dining room,” Rosalie said with a sigh, appearing at his shoulder and looking at me guiltily. “I’m sorry Esme.”

I pushed past the two of them and into the house, going directly to the dining room to be confronted by the wreckage of my formerly lovely dining table and chairs. Two chairs appeared to have escaped the destruction, but the table and other four chairs were nothing more than a pile of kindling.

“We didn’t mean it,” Emmett said hopefully. “It just kind of happened…”

“Emmett McCarty _,”_ I said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to hear it, and if you know what’s good for you, you will get out of my house _RIGHT NOW.”_

Knowing what was good for him, Emmett vanished.

Rosalie bit her lip, undecided whether to bolt with Emmett or stay and beg forgiveness. “I really am sorry!” she blurted out.

Not in the mood for it, I only glared at her and said threateningly, “You too! Go!”

Without another word, she turned and fled.

I shook my head wearily and bent to begin gathering up the sticks of wood. Carlisle came into the room behind me and sighed, laying a hand on my back. “Sweetness, you don’t have to pick it up. They made the mess and they can clean it up just as well.”

“You’re right.” I tossed the wood back onto the pile, thinking briefly and satisfyingly of driving a stake right into Emmett’s heart.

Turning to Carlisle I shook my head and said in exasperation. “I love them. I really do, but honestly… _my house!”_

Carlisle wrapped his arms around me with a grin. “They really are impossible, aren’t they?”

I growled. “I just wish they’d think about what they’re doing! This isn’t necessary!”

Carlisle kissed me softly, and a moment later I sighed and relaxed against him as he said, “They’ll settle down. Don’t forget how new they are, both to each other and to being vampires. They’re probably not completely in control of their own strength.”

“Well, I think that’s obvious!” I laughed, looking in despair at the shattered remains of what had been a very nice dining suite. “We were never like this!”

“Don’t forget I’d been a vampire for over two hundred and fifty years,” Carlisle said teasingly. “I was a _master_ of control and could keep you in line.”

The last remnants of my anger melted away as I stood on tiptoes and kissed my beautiful husband. “I’m very glad you did.”

“Rosalie and Emmett are pretty hard to live with right now,” Carlisle admitted, stroking my back. “I’ve actually been thinking about it a great deal recently…”

“And I suppose you’ve come up with a plan?” I said, amused.

Carlisle gave me a bashful grin. “Well…yes. I was planning on giving you a surprise, but I can tell you now.”

“What? You’re banishing Emmett and Rosalie to the wilds of Alaska?”

“Indeed not,” Carlisle said with a laugh. “Why should they get a holiday because they can’t control themselves? I think _you_ should be the one to have a holiday. We’re going to leave Emmett and Rosalie to their own devices here, and Edward can pay the bills and make sure they have the house in _better_ than original condition when we return.” His eyes were sparkling as he looked down at me.

“And you have this holiday all planned out?” I asked, hugging him tightly.

“Of course.” Carlisle smiled a little smugly. “I’ve been planning this for a long time actually. Tomorrow is my last day of work and we’ll have to leave the following morning. A little bit of running, then we’ll be going in a seaplane…it’s going to be quite an adventure, my love.”

I looked at him a little doubtfully. “Seaplane? Is that safe?”

Carlisle chuckled. “Sweetness, you’ll be fine. It’s very safe, and you’re rather more durable than a human in any case.”

“I’ll have to pack,” I said, immediately beginning to plan. “What’s our destination? What do we need?”

“Not very much,” Carlisle brushed my hair back from my face. “Where we’re going is a surprise. But it will be very quiet and very peaceful, and we won’t need much at all. Perhaps some books to read and your sketchbook? Not much else.”

He wouldn’t tell me any more. Of course Edward knew too, but despite me begging him for hints he just smiled smugly and refused to say a word. Sighing in defeat I went and fetched a large suitcase from the attic and packed, just guessing at what clothes we would need.

Emmett and Rosalie returned home the following day, when Carlisle was at work. Emmett was deeply repentant and immediately went to work on clearing the dining room. Rosalie had obviously intended to help him, but after only a few moments I heard voices and then she came hurrying out to where I sat on the porch with a book.

“Edward says you’re leaving. Really?” she demanded.

“Just for a holiday,” I answered, looking up at her a little curiously. It wasn’t like Rosalie to look so rattled over anything I was doing.

“It’s not…because of me? Emmett and me? I’ll make him stop, I promise we won’t ruin anything else.” Rosalie wound her fingers through her hair.

“It’s just a holiday,” I repeated. “I don’t even know where we’re going…Carlisle has arranged it. He thought it might be nice for the two of us to have some time alone. It’s been a long time.”

Since Edward’s return from his period of solitary living Carlisle and I had rarely had time alone together that lasted longer than a couple of days, and this had been even more infrequent after Rosalie’s and then Emmett’s arrival.

Rosalie sat down on the porch step. “You _do_ want to get away from us then,” she pouted.

I laughed. “Yes, we do! I love you all very much, but Carlisle is my husband and sometimes I would just like to relax and spend time with him in peace!”

Rosalie snorted. “Well, I hope you have fun. But you need to make sure you come back. I can’t live with those two by myself!” she added, flipping her hand towards the sound of Emmett and Edward laughing inside the house.

She sounded as though she was joking, but I knew Rosalie probably better than she realised, and I knew that she was serious. Despite how wrapped up she was in Emmett and her happiness there, somehow Rosalie had come to consider herself part of a family she loved and was passionately loyal to, and she didn’t want to lose it.

“We’ll be back,” I said gently. “I certainly couldn’t abandon our family for any great length of time! But you’re all adults and can certainly take care of yourselves for a while. _And_ ,” I added sternly, eyeing Rosalie severely, “You and Emmett can get to work on restoring my house to the condition you found it when you moved in!”

“Yes Esme,” she said meekly, and then both of us laughed.

________________________________

Carlisle had been downplaying things when he had told me our vacation would involve ‘a little bit of running’. Going on foot from Tennessee to Florida certainly involved _a little bit of running_! The change of scenery as we took a seaplane out of Miami and across the Gulf of Mexico down to South America, refuelling at ports and islands along the way, was amazing. I definitely felt a long way from Tennessee when we finally embarked at Rio de Janeiro!

“Is this where you’ve brought me?” I asked in wonder, listening to the sound of so many different languages around me as we made our way through the port.

Carlisle shook his head with a secret smile. “No. It’s our last stop on the way though! Come.”

He led me through the commercial port, which was bustling even at that late hour, and down a long stretch of road to a smaller marina that held what looked like private boats. I was astounded when he jumped nimbly from the jetty onto a sleek looking yacht and then turned to me with a grin, holding out his hand.

“You’ve bought a boat?” I said incredulously, ignoring his hand and jumping from the jetty straight into his arms.

He caught me easily, and swung me in a wide arc before setting me gently on my feet. “We need a boat to get where we’re going.”

“We’re going somewhere else? The boat itself isn’t the vacation?”

Carlisle laughed. “Not this time. Although she is ours now, so there’s always next time. Now, I don’t suppose you know how to sail?”

“Not in the least,” I said cheerfully, leaning over the railing to look down at the water. “Really Carlisle, I’m from _Ohio_ …I hadn’t even seen the ocean until I after you’d turned me. The closest I’ve come to sailing is being rowed on a lake in a rowboat! Are you telling me you _do_ know how to sail this boat?”

“I do actually,” Carlisle said with a grin. “I thought sailing was a useful sort of skill to have, so I learned how. Admittedly that was back in the 1800’s, so boats and navigation equipment have changed somewhat – after all, this boat has a motor to get us out of the harbour and I certainly didn’t have that then – but the sailing part shouldn’t be too different.”

I giggled and took a seat in the bow. “Well, let me know if you need a hand. I don’t know what to do, but I can always learn.”

That same mantra of my vampire life… _I can always learn._

I didn’t have to learn to sail then though, as Carlisle managed the boat as though he’d been doing it all his life. He would admit to me later on that he’d actually gone wildly off course and the trip had taken close to twice as long as it should have, but at the time I was enjoying the wind and the ocean spray, and the way the midnight sky lightened and the stars disappeared as dawn approached.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when I saw land in the distance, a small green island rising up from the blue water. Carlisle took down the sail and used the motor to manoeuvre us closer to it, eventually managing to bring us to stop beside a rickety looking wooden jetty.

Carlisle looked at it a little doubtfully. “Well, they might have exaggerated the sturdiness of _that_ a little bit!” he muttered, stepping gingerly onto the rotting planks. But when it held his weight he turned to me with a smile and held out a hand. “Come on.”

“Just let me find the hats,” I said, a little anxiously. The sun was rising quickly, and even in this half light I could see the faint shimmer of our vampire skin. “You ought to roll down your sleeves, if someone sees…”

“It doesn’t matter here,” Carlisle said, and his voice was full of such a quiet triumph that I simply stared at him. “There is no one to see…there is no one here but you and I, Esme.”

Stunned, I stepped carefully off the boat and the two of us picked our way across the jetty to the shoreline. There was thirty feet of golden sand and then a thick, green jungle, a single dirt path leading into its shadowy depths.

“What is this place?” I asked, breathing in the mingled scents of the ocean and sun-warmed sand and the humid green jungle. I looked around in pleasure, thinking how beautiful it was. 

“It’s Isle Esme.” Carlisle wrapped his arms around me, and smiled at me tenderly. “And it’s all yours, my love.”

“My…what? You bought me an _island_?” I said incredulously.

I had never heard of anything so ridiculous, and so completely out of character for my quiet and unassuming husband! Carlisle was tender and loving and protective, but he had never been one for grand, showy romantic gestures. And yet he’d bought me an _island_?

“Well, it’s not a very _big_ island,” Carlisle said, half pleased and half embarrassed. “And at the moment it only has a very small and falling apart little shack on it, at least according to the photographs I saw when I arranged to buy it. I haven’t actually seen it of course. But I thought you might like to design something and we can have it built…”

“But an _island_ …” I couldn’t get past that.

Carlisle laughed. “Sweetness, we have the money. Why not treat ourselves to something special occasionally? And it’s not just about the island.” Carlisle traced a hand across my face, and I noticed how both of our skins were glittering in the sun. “I wanted to give you a place, give _us_ a place, where we don’t have to hide and don’t have to pretend. I wanted to give you a place in the sun. Somewhere that we can go to be alone, where we can do whatever we want without fear or caution.”

“Oh Carlisle.” My beautiful golden doctor husband, shining in the sun…he knew me on such a deep and fundamental level, and he could not have given me something that I would treasure more than this island that would become my place. Our place. I reached up and kissed him, feeling the heat of the sun and the warmth of just being with the man that I loved. “Thank you. For everything…thank you.”

Carlisle smiled and kissed me back before he took my hand and turned to the island, and the two of us began to explore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – That’s all there is! Thank you all SO much for giving my Esme a try and being so generous with reading and reviewing. I really appreciate you giving me and my stories your time and affection.
> 
> I have loved writing Esme. I have always thought she was just about the most underrated Cullen, but she has her own story that shows just how bright and brave and strong she was as a human and then a newly born vampire. Her love story with Carlisle is beautiful and really did deserve to take centre stage for a while. He waited for her for such a long time, and she went through so much to find herself with him, I think they deserved the romantic and enduring love they found together. 
> 
> I wanted to end it here, where they’re all happy and settled in their family, and think that it’s not going to change. After all, Carlisle’s never going to change anyone again… Of course, little do they know that Alice and Jasper are already vampires wandering the world and in fifteen odd years they’re going to turn up on their doorstep declaring they’re home! And no one is seeing Bella, who won’t even be born for more than fifty years, and we all know what chaos she’s going to bring with her.


End file.
